I'll Follow You Into The Dark
by oiseaus
Summary: Mary and Matthew are overwhelmed with joy as they journey towards becoming parents, but when the family is tested severely, how will they possibly go on? Chapter 19 is up!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Her heart was soaring. Her chest felt as if it would burst open at any moment, and her hands shook as she looked up the hill, seeing Downton rise up on the horizon line. Mary had been too jumpy to take the car, preferring to walk by herself and hopefully be able to collect herself before seeing Dr. Clarkson. Her façade had been thin, however. Dr. Clarkson had asked if she was alright immediately upon seeing her -her face was flushed and she seemed awfully shaky. He ahd worried she would faint. And that was all before he had confirmed her suspicions. She was indeed pregnant.

And now she was so filled with joy and wonder and, to be frank, complete disbelief, that she was having trouble focusing on walking in a simple straight line. She was usually so adept at concealing what she was feeling, at not revealing anything, of staying calm in a storm. But she couldn't stop smiling, her lips trembling even as she did so.

She wanted Matthew to be the first to know, but he was in Ripon for the day, promising to be home before dinner. But dinner seemed ages away now. Mary didn't think she would be able to sit still until she heard him come in.

She quickened her pace as the abbey drew nearer, and was soon inside, taking off her coat and gloves and rushing slightly to go upstairs to their bedroom. She needed a moment to sit down and just...revel in the news.

"Mary?"

She jumped visibly and turned to see her younger sister, Edith, look up from her newspaper in the drawing room at her curiously.

"Yes?" Mary answered, conscious of the fact that her voice was extremely high.

"What is it?" Edith asked, raising an eyebrow and folding the newspaper in her lap.

"What?" Mary asked, clearing her throat. "Nothing!"

Edith's mouth opened slightly at the sight of her usually calm, collected sister in such a strange state. Something must have happened, and she would persist until she knew what it was.

"Mary, you're a mess! What's gotten into you?"

Mary shook her head and took a deep breath, folding her arms. "I've just been on a walk, it's tired me out, I suppose."

Edith didn't look entirely convinced. Their mother walked in the drawing room then, carrying a small green-bound novel in her hands. She looked from Edith's expression to Mary, and back at Edith. Sitting down, she crossed her legs.

"What's going on?" she asked delicately, hoping she hadn't intruded on another nasty argument she would have to resolve.

"Mary is acting in the strangest manner, Mama." Edith said, gesturing at her older sister.

Mary shook her head and moved again towards the staircase. "Oh, don't be a nuisance, Edith. There's nothing the matter with me. I'm just a bit tired, that's all. I'll be down in an hour or so."

As she climbed the staircase Mary took deep breaths, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat. This was so overwhelming and impossible to keep inside. No, she would not betray her emotion. She would be calm. She would wait for Matthew and be calm.

* * *

Anna was putting the finishing touches on Mary's hair as Mary pulled on her black gloves. She had settled considerably since the afternoon, although the flush had not completely fled from her cheeks. Anna, she suspected, knew something had happened, but perhaps not what. Mary wanted nothing more than to tell her, to have someone else know. She wanted to yell it from the hilltops, because telling someone, for her, meant that it was indeed real. They had waited for so long, and she had experienced several moments when she thought, for a time, that she was with child. But this time it was confirmed, and definite. And telling Matthew meant making the fact even more concrete.

Just then, there was a knock at her door. Mary stiffened and heard Anna's frustrated sigh as the pin she was putting in Mary's hair was knocked to the carpet.

"Mary? May I come in?" Matthew's voice came from behind the door.

"Yes!" Mary said, cursing the highness of her voice.

Anna smirked as she put the final pin in, curtsying and leaving behind Mr. Crawley as he entered. He was just tightening his bow tie, and Mary smiled at him from her mirror, standing up.

"Hello, darling." he said, bending to kiss her on the cheek.

She beamed up at him. "Hello."

He smiled with a curious expression, not used to her betraying quite so much emotion. Nevertheless, he was pleased. He put a hand to her waist and pulled her close. "You look happy."

She smiled, showing her pearly teeth and feeling giddy and light-headed. "I am happy. So very happy."

He chuckled. "Why ever so, darling?"

She rolled slightly on her feet and looked down, her heart swelling impossibly. "Matthew…" she began, her voice shaking.

He tightened his grip on her waist. "Mary? What is it?"

She looked up at him again, her eyes shining. "We've done it." she whispered, her voice cracking. "We've...we'll have our prince."

She watched with teary eyes as his face transformed from amusement at her peculiar behavior to shock. He brought a hand to her cheek and rubbed a thumb over it, looking into her eyes, then down to her abdomen, then back to her again.

"You...you're...oh, Mary." his own voice trembled. "You darling girl!"

She nodded enthusiastically, a huge weight lifted from her chest. She laughed nervously before her lips were caught in his. He kissed her mouth, then her cheek and temple before drawing her in to his chest. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his lapels, feeling his comforting weight against her.

"Oh, darling." he murmured into her hair. He then held her at arms length, eyeing her middle in wondering adoration.

She laughed again, this time fully and joyfully. "Are you happy?"

He gasped with his joy and kissed her again. "Oh, Mary. Incredibly so."

* * *

He couldn't keep his eyes off her during dinner. He watched her every move. A delicate hand on crystal glass, another one tucking a lock of dark hair behind an ear. The beautiful glow of her cheeks, the sparkling in her eyes. He felt foolish in his all-consuming happiness. He felt like running through the whole village, and telling everyone. But they had agreed, she wanted to wait until they had gotten used to the idea themselves. Dr. Clarkson had suggested being cautious with the news until she was at least three months gone. But perhaps it was better this way, Matthew thought. He could have her all to himself for at least another two months, swimming in love and affection before sharing the wonderfulness of it all with everyone else.

He saw her look back at him occasionally, but realized she was purposefully avoiding his eyes because she knew she would not be able to contain herself from smiling and laughing and acting like a silly schoolgirl in front of him. It would be a treasured secret.

Alone at last in their bedchamber Matthew looked at his wife in wonder. He wanted both to take her in his arms passionately and make love to her and to simply watch her in amazement. He settled for the latter since she had expressed the fact that she was a bit tired out from the day's excitement when they had rejoined in the drawing room after dinner. He watched as she smoothed a lavender cream over her hands, then took off her dressing gown and climbed into bed beside him, wriggling under the covers and laying back, blushing at his unabashed gaze. He was propped up on an elbow but draped his other hand over her, pulling her nearer to him.

"You are so very beautiful."

She smiled. "Not for long, I'm afraid."

He shook his head. "Impossible."

She glanced down at her abdomen and nodded. "I'll be as big as a house and then you'll wish we'd never gotten ourselves into this mess."

He laughed at her sarcasm, kissing her cheek and nibbling at her neck. He then looked at her softly, adoringly, and sat up, moving his hand to rest gently on the soft smooth flesh of her stomach.

"Nothing's changed yet, darling. It won't for a few months. Then you'll see." she said in a low soft voice, running a hand along his arm.

"Now come and kiss me."

He did so eagerly, letting himself sink into his wife's soft pink lips which couldn't stop smiling as he kissed them.

* * *

_A/N: Please review! I'm really excited for this new story and I hope you are too!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

_Please, throw up. Please, throw up! _Mary begged in silent prayer as she hunched over the washbasin like every morning for the past two weeks. She pressed a clammy palm to her abdomen as another wave of sickness passed through her, causing her stomach to jump and for her to heave violently forward, but to no avail. She groaned in frustration and looked mournfully to the still dark window. This baby had woken her up for nothing, yet again.

She leaned over the basin again and retched loudly, hearing Matthew begin to stir awake in the bed. _Come on, _she pleaded with herself. Dr. Clarkson had warned her about the trial that was the first three months of pregnancy, mentioning that vomiting in the morning was very common, although some were spared. She had hoped then that she would be one of the lucky ones, but now as she hung dejectedly over an empty white basin she wanted nothing more than to just get it over with, already. She would give almost anything to qualm her aching stomach.

"Oh, Mary." Matthew said with pity, getting up from their bed and coming to her side, his hand at her waist.

The infinitely small pressure of his hand on her side caused Mary to heave again and then reduce to a dry sob, tears streaming from her eyes from the effort. She brushed his gentle hand away.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked earnestly, running his fingers ever-so-gently across her back. The gesture was comforting, and gradually Mary's breathing began to slow. Finally, she sighed in relief, letting her shoulders fall; the dreadful spell had passed for the time being.

Mary looked up at Matthew, giving him a weak but grateful smile. He waited until she was truly ready and stable to help her stand up from her vanity chair and lead her carefully back to bed. She sighed deeply as her head touched the soft pillows again, and she lay on her left side, bringing her knees to her chest and keeping a steadying hand over her delicate stomach. Matthew chuckled lightly as he climbed in beside her.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this, darling." he said sympathetically.

She moaned and closed her eyes. "Oh, don't mention it, I've still got eight months to go!"

"I thought you said this part would only last for three." he reminded her gently. She opened an eye and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "_are you really considering challenging me?" _before nestling closer to the warm form of her husband, tucking her head into his shoulder and inhaling deeply.

"Try and sleep." he murmured down to her, feeling her nod in response.

* * *

The trying pattern of their early mornings continued until Mary finally started to vomit, something that, strangely, brought her great joy. After three tumultuous heaves into the washbasin one morning Mary stood up triumphantly, her nausea blissfully cured. Matthew would watch with peculiar fascination as Mary would rinse out her mouth and practically prance back to bed, her voice ragged and eyes streaming. But she would beam at him and sigh contentedly, and Matthew had to take her word for it, that this sort of behavior was normal from his pregnant wife.

In public, despite her rather sallow complexion and exhaustion, Mary was perfectly content. Every moment, it seemed, was filled up with her precious secret. As she perused for a book in the library she wondered which ones she would read to her child. Walking through the house she imagined the pattering of tiny feet upon its ancient floors. And gazing out of the large windows in the drawing room she could almost see a small child running about on the green lawn.

Mary couldn't imagine a more perfect father for her baby. She knew that Matthew was maybe even more excited about the prospect of the baby than she was. _Well, _she thought with a smirk, _he doesn't have to carry it for nine months. _She wondered what _it _would be. A boy with her dark hair and Matthew's eyes? Or maybe a beautiful girl with Matthew's blonde hair...but she would have to hope for a boy. Downton was secured, for the moment, but producing an heir was imperative.

Mary worried about the mother she would be. She had never shown much affection for children before. In fact, as an adolescent she had purposefully distanced herself from the children at family picnics, finding their constant questions and demands rather aggravating. Would she be any good at it? Mary chided herself. Of course one couldn't possibly know the answers to these questions until one really became a parent. And it seemed so far away. Such a long, tiresome wait for such a small little bundle.

* * *

One evening, after a particularly satisfying dinner (one that Mary had actually managed to eat some of without feeling sick), the family all retired to the drawing room, still discussing the various topics from dinner. As they all dispersed to separate areas of the room, however, Matthew noticed Mary's face pale, fatigue evident in her manner. He put a hand gently on her arm, pulling her aside.

"Are you feeling alright, darling?"

She smiled at his concern and nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit worn out, that's all."

"You wouldn't like to go up early?" he prodded.

"No, no, I'll be alright, darling." she assured him, taking a seat next to her mother on the plush sofa. "I think you had better go join Papa, he's quite alone in such an unbalanced party."

He smiled at her and kissed her cheek lightly before letting her hand go. "Come and get me if you feel too tired."

She smiled up at him, trying to conceal her exhaustion from the one who could read her so well. She would not retire early for something as trifling as a little tiredness. But goodness, who knew this would be so utterly draining! Her whole body ached, but she would not leave early and create suspicion. She turned to her mother, straightening her back and listening with what she hoped was believable attentiveness.

* * *

The conversation between Matthew and his father-in-law had just begun to shift towards plans for the estate when there was an exclamation from the other end of the room.

"Mary!" Edith had cried, and Matthew's heart skipped an interminably long beat as he watched Edith move to support Mary as she crumpled into her sister's arms. The two men set down their glasses and rushed towards Mary, who was not, miraculously, unconscious.

"What happened?" Lord Grantham asked as Matthew helped Edith lower Mary to the sofa, Matthew sitting beside her and whispering, "Mary, are you alright?"

"I don't know! One moment she was perfectly fine and then..she stood up and...she must have fainted, or something!" Edith sputtered, ringing the bell to ask for some cold water for her older sister.

Cora bent over her daughter, her eyebrows knit together. "How do you feel, my dear?"

Mary was still a bit dizzy and looked as if she wanted to respond, but couldn't conjure up the words to do so. She blinked and looked up at Matthew. "I…"

Carson appeared, looking as shocked as all of them, but hurried away at Edith's request for some cool water. He soon returned as Mary was regaining her senses and watched as she slowly sat up, supported by Matthew and her mother, and took a sip of water. "I'm..I'm alright." she said finally, to everyone's great relief. "Just very tired."

Lady Grantham rubbed her arm soothingly. "Let's get you to bed as soon as you feel ready." She looked to Matthew and he nodded, waiting until Mary nodded to support her as she stood again. She swayed with vertigo and Matthew tightened his grip on her, guiding her step-by-step up the stairs and to their room as the rest of the family murmured in concern downstairs.

"Mary, I told you to not wear yourself out, darling." Matthew chided, sitting his wife down on the bed as Cora rang for Anna to come and help her undress.

"Matthew's right, my dear. Especially in your condition." Lady Grantham said.

Mary's eyes shot at her in surprise. "How did you-"

"I've had three of my own children, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Cora said with a gentle smile. "Congratulations, you two."

Mary smiled back at her mother, too tired to say anything, and allowed Matthew to take off her shoes one-by-one. She felt light and slightly drunk, as if the world was blurred at the edges. She heard Anna come in and looked at her gratefully, standing up with Matthew to lean on as her mother bid them both goodnight with a knowing smile. Anna worked quickly, and Mary was soon dressed for bed, her eyes shutting in sleep even before her head touched the pillows.

* * *

Matthew stayed awake for a long while, listening to the soft sound of her steady breathing. He knew he would need to keep a closer eye on her, which she would despise. She hated being looked after and treated like a china doll. He looked at her thin-fingered hand resting naturally over her stomach and was suddenly gripped with something akin to fear. In less than a year he would be a father. The prospect both filled him with joy and responsibility along with trepidation. He wondered what sort of father he would be. Would he be patient and kind as his father was to him? He knew next to nothing of babies, the only ones he'd seen had been little cousins when he was a child, and the occasional pram being pushed along. He couldn't remember ever even holding one.

His heart swelled with pride as he looked again at her delicate hand as it moved unconsciously across the flatness of her abdomen in her sleep. Together, he and Mary had made a miracle. And he would do absolutely anything to protect them.

* * *

_A/N: I was so pleased with the response from the last chapter! Please review again, guys! It means a lot! I'm having a lot of fun writing this. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Matthew couldn't resist the opportunity to watch his wife fondly from across the dinner table that evening. In the past week, to his delight, Mary's mornings had been spent peacefully in bed rather than crouched over the all-too-familiar washbasin. Her cheeks had magically lit up, a pleasing rose-colored blush dusting her high cheekbones. Her eyes sparkled golden-brown as she fought to contain the joy that threatened to burst from out of her chest. Matthew had even noticed the absentminded brush of her hand across her abdomen in a busy moment, or in a solitary one, perhaps when she didn't suspect anyone would notice it. Matthew did, and reveled in the blossoming nature of his wife's condition.

Mary caught his eye from her place across from him and smiled, her conversation with her grandmother completely forgotten. In the past few weeks she had really come to terms with the fact that this was _real_, that the being inside her was _her child_, _their child_; a whole other person that would one day meet the world and become a part of their family. Mary's eyes twinkled at her husband, pink lips slightly upturned at the corners in a sweet, lazy smile. Matthew's eyes were lost in hers, she was captivating.

"What game are you two playing?" Lord Grantham asked with a smirk, startling the couple. They made flustered attempts to compose themselves. "You must tell us the rules so we may all join in!"

Cora smiled at Mary, who in turn looked to Matthew, giving him a gentle nod of consent. They had waited long enough, everything was going as it should be, it was time. Matthew gave her a look as if to confirm if she was certain, and when he received a timid smile in return he straightened in his chair, his chest swelling with pride.

"Mary...no, Mary and I…" he fumbled. The family all looked at him with confused, expectant faces. Mary smiled at him with pity, not able to contain a nervous laugh.

"Matthew, what is going on?" Edith pressed, ever the eager one.

"Well," he began again, clearing his throat. "The thing is...Mary is expecting a baby." He looked at her then with such loving adoration that Mary felt a warmth spread from her belly up to her chest. She didn't have long to dwell on the feeling, however; because the moment the words had left his lips she was being smothered in kisses, hugs, and "Congratulations!" from all corners of the room.

The dinner seeming to have come to an unofficial close, even without the dessert course, the women began to herd Mary into the drawing room with small tuts of advice, but Matthew managed to pull her aside before she was completely swept away.

"I know that perhaps we should have spoken first-" he began, but she stopped him with a gentle yet firm squeeze on his arm. She leaned up and kissed his cheek quickly. When Mary pulled away, she was positively glowing.

"No, darling. It was perfect. There was no need." Matthew breathed a sigh of relief and flexed his hand at her waist. "I'll see you when you come through." she said softly, moving away from him to join the other ladies. His arms ached to hold her again, to smell her unique scent close to him, but he turned back to Lord Grantham, who was busying himself with cigars (Matthew supposed he'd be obliged to smoke one tonight). The Earl was beside himself. Cora had told him about his eldest daughter's several false alarms during the course of her young marriage, and this confirmed pregnancy was a wonderful and relieving bridge to have crossed. As they sat down with a brandy and cigar, Lord Grantham crossed one leg over the other and looked at Matthew with pride.

"Now, for a boy, maybe we could call him…"

* * *

For the past three months Mary's lack of appetite and utter exhaustion had caused her to be too put out for any physical intimacy with her husband, besides kissing or cuddling with him in the mornings. She hadn't tried to initiate anything with him because, well, who would want to make love to an exhausted woman who smelled like vomit? And Matthew, in turn, hadn't tried anything either, as much as he had wanted to. His reasoning, however, wasn't quite along the same lines as hers…

It came as a surprise to him, then, when more than one kind of appetite had rushed back to his young wife in the past two weeks. After the dinner was over and everyone had begun to retire for the night, he walked upstairs with Mary, pausing at the landing to go to his dressing room before coming to their bedchamber. As he had moved away from her Mary had reached to take Matthew's arm, pulling him to her and leading him to their bedroom door. Matthew, surprised by her hidden strength, tried to protest.

"Mary, what?" he managed to get out before his breath hitched. Her hands were trailing down his chest to reach his trousers, her insistent and dextrous fingers working quickly on the small buttons. She smiled wickedly up at him.

"What, 'what'?"

He shook his head, looking right and left. "Mary, we're here!" he gestured to the empty corridor. She sighed with frustration and turned the doorknob. They fell inside the room; it wasn't clear who was pulling whom, or who was in charge of the situation. They were a mess of tangled limbs and searching hands, mouths nipping behind ears and along jaws.

"Won't Anna be coming?" Matthew breathed, tickling Mary's ear delightfully.

"Matthew, I'm sure she'll realize what's going on when she finds our bedroom door locked!" she responded, her voice husky as she leaned to lock said door firmly. Matthew stopped for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of Anna knowing the schedule of their intimacy. Then he comforted himself with the fact that she was married, and then with the fact that any sensible person knew what went on behind married couple's bedroom doors. There was nothing that needed an explanation. His thoughts were quickly forgotten as Mary pressed up against him and began placing sweet kisses on his neck, unbuttoning and untying as she moved lower...lower...lower.

"Mary!" he gasped as her hand brushed like a feather over his arousal. Her eyebrow raised with a sly smile as she stepped back, pulling off her long black gloves and tossing them into the ever-mounting pile of their clothing.

"Please, darling." she whispered. Matthew was incredibly aroused by her apparently acute..._need_ for him. He began to rid himself of any other clothing as she bent down and unfastened the buckles on her small shoes, allowing him a sneaking view of her breasts straining against her corset. He was overcome by her, capturing her lips almost as soon as she stood again, her height slightly diminished next to him. His kisses and hands were as greedy as hers, the weeks without her had been torturous. His fingers found the hem of her dress and he pulled the beaded material up, up until she took it from his fingertips and over her head. That one barrier removed, they clashed together once more, lips and tongues joining and limbs entwining as they tripped back towards the bed.

They broke apart and Mary fiddled with the snaps on her corset, exhaling in annoyance until Matthew's hands found the back laces, loosening them with care and then throwing the cursed garment aside as Mary wriggled out of her remaining underthings.

And then they were naked, and she was glorious before him. Mary welcomed him into her arms hungrily and they fell back together, her legs clutching him close to her body. The rub of his arousal over her own sex caused her to moan loudly, her breath ragged. Matthew held his weight up carefully over her with a steady arm, which she noted with frustration, whimpering as she pulled at him but was met with resistance.

"Darling, "he said between shaking breaths, "I don't want to hurt you...or the baby."

She shook her head in annoyance. "You won't, you can't."

He let her pull him down, holding her closely in his arms, bestowing hot kisses along her collar bone and neck. He was amazed to suddenly feel the barely-rounded flesh of her lower abdomen pressing gently against his own. Her hips pushed up against his as she practically begged for him to enter her. Matthew was suddenly struck with a horrifying thought. What if the baby could _see_ or _hear_ them?

Mary's patience had wore thin long ago, so it was with a renewed sense of determination that she forced Matthew on his back, situating herself over him with her knees pressed into the bed on either side of him, beginning to join them together.

"No, Mary, wait! Can the baby-" Matthew began, but he was cut off by a distracted and snappy retort.

"Oh, honestly, Matthew, don't be ridiculous!" she inhaled sharply and moaned at the long-coveted contact as she lowered herself onto him, biting her lip in concentration. Nothing had ever felt more perfect, and as Mary began to undulate over him, all Matthew's worries seemed to dissipate.

After a moment he gently flipped her under him again, taking advantage of her changed form. His hand slipped to her breast, which was rounder and fuller than before. She gasped at his touch, the sensations of pleasure coursing through her were ten-times more satisfying than they had been before her pregnancy. As his lips found her breast and then the sensitive flesh of her nipple her hips ground against his, her moans turning to ragged whimpers as his tongue flicked over her bosom. Her movement brought them even closer together and Matthew groaned at the soft tightness of her as she contracted around him.

They moved together in quick, hard thrusts, their cries mounting in intensity until Mary fell over the edge, her wail of ecstasy causing Matthew's world to shatter into stars.

* * *

Afterwards, they lay together, Mary's head on his chest, their hearts slowing from their wild marathon. Sated, at least for the time being. After a few minutes of blissful satisfaction, Matthew gently rolled Mary off of him, sitting up and moving to marvel at her changed abdomen.

"I told you I would change." she said softly as Matthew placed his large hand over the small swell, covering it with reverence. It wouldn't be noticeable when she was dressed, not yet at least, but for someone who knew her body so well, the change was remarkable.

"He must be so very small." Matthew said to himself more than her, flexing his fingers over the swell again.

Mary nodded sleepily, her own hand finding where the promise of their child rested and running her fingertips over warm skin, the action bringing her an unexplainable comfort. Matthew bent his head down to place a soft, tender kiss to her flesh and she sighed with emotion. Mary often had trouble expressing her true sentiments, and so it touched her when he showed his so unflinchingly, so clearly in love with his baby even before seeing him.

* * *

In the following days, filled with a happiness that almost scared her, Mary spent much of her time outdoors, whether it was reading a book on the bench under the tree or simply walking, wrapped up in her own mind. She chided herself for spending so many of her waking hours conjuring up scenes of her future: holding the baby she was carrying in her arms, reading him a story before bed as her mother used to do, watching him grow up in the house that had become as dear to her as any one of her human family. She would force herself to think of the present, to not retreat so much into her own imaginings.

She had written to Sybil shortly after hearing that she, too, was expecting. The thought of their children growing up so close in age to each other was wonderful, but Mary was sobered by the fact that Sybil's child would be raised in Ireland, as Irish, while hers would be English through-and-through. Would they be close to each other at all? She hoped so, desperately. She had gone by being alone and feeling terribly alone for so much of her life, and now that she was gifted with the love, care, and protection of a large family and husband, she wouldn't wish a solitary life on anyone. She wanted their children to know each other, so they would never be without a friend and playmate.

Mary was surprised with the rising feeling of responsibility inside her, a dormant maternal instinct that was awakening more and more with each passing day. She was almost overwhelmed with it all, as it sometimes seemed to her that however much she liked to believe she was in perfect control of her life, she was, in fact, woefully mistaken.

* * *

_A/N: I hope you liked this update! Review, s'il vous plaît! I wasn't clear before, but in this story's time frame, Sybil is in Ireland with Tom, having just recently written to her mother about the baby, but of course this AU storyline is a little skewed, so let's just go with it! Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing!_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

The afternoon August sun shone splendidly, casting beautiful shadows through the leaves of the tree and onto the white pages of Mary's book, the shadows shifting in the breeze so that it distracted her vision. She looked up, scanning the horizon line and sighing deeply in contentment. The temperature was more spring than summer, ruffling her skirt gently in soft breeze, the golden sun in the distance sinking lower behind the tree line by the minute.

Mary closed her book. There was no point in reading with such beauty around her. She placed a hand over her abdomen and leaned back into the bench, letting her eyes close for a moment, relishing the day.

"Mary?"

She sat up, looking around her to see Matthew walking over, smiling.

"Are you alright?" he asked, sitting beside her.

She nodded. "Of course!" she leaned forward to kiss him, laughing against his lips, her eyes scanning around them for a possible audience.

They broke apart and Matthew put an arm around her, drawing her close to his side and crossing his legs one over the other. He followed her gaze towards the sun and exhaled, leaning over to kiss behind her ear.

"By this time next year we'll have a baby with us." he whispered, his breath tickling the back of her neck.

She smiled and trailed her hand over her stomach again lovingly. "I know." her words were soft, each thought of her baby making her heart soar. Yes, this time next year they would have a small, precious baby to share every moment with. Mary already knew that she would not be the kind of mother to relax while the hired nanny took care of her child. No, even as she doubted her ability to mother, she knew she would have to be with that baby, holding it, kissing it, talking to it. _Him, _or _her. _By then the little mystery living inside her would be its own little person. Who would he favor? What would her name be?

As if Matthew had been thinking along the exact same lines as her, he ran his hand along her back. "You know, darling. Soon we'll have to think of what we'll call the baby once he arrives…"

Mary's head shot up. "He?"

He shook his head. "Or she, it doesn't matter." He comforted her by running a soft thumb over her cheek. She relaxed, then began to knot her fingers over her lap.

"I suppose we should hope for a boy." she admitted.

He took her hands in his free one, stilling them. "We should hope for a _baby." _

She nodded, smiling again. "And what do you propose we call this _baby_?" she asked, sitting back and folding her arms.

He considered for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Henry."

She raised her eyebrow, challenging him. "_Henry?_"

He shook his head. "No, no, I didn't mean that." He searched hurriedly for another suggestion. "Robert! After your father!"

Mary wrinkled her nose. "No, I don't want to name him after anyone. Try again." she commanded.

He sighed in defeat. "Mary, this isn't easy! You'll put down every option!"

She looked down at her abdomen. "I _am _the one doing most of the work, you know. I think my vote should be weighted twice. Now, try for a girl."

Matthew shook his head, laughing. "Elizabeth."

Mary considered, raising her eyebrow again, impressed. "You're improving. I like that name."

"Anne?"

She gasped, hitting his arm. "Matthew! No!"

He chuckled, leaning over her mischievously to nibble at her abdomen, feeling the slight swell under his lips. "What should we call you?" he asked, mockingly. "Your mother might not want to call you anything!"

Mary swatted him away, laughing playfully. "Matthew, we have _months_ to decide." she implored. "Besides, I'm not sure I can name someone without meeting them!"

* * *

The door to the bathroom swung open and Mary looked up from her bath, expecting Anna. When she saw it was Matthew and definitely _not _Anna, his shirt undone as he was taking off his tie after being in town, she sat up quickly, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Matthew!" she exclaimed, picking up bubbles and drawing them around her. Matthew pulled up a chair and sat down, finally taking his tie off and draping it over the back of the chair while he began to untie his shoes.

"What are you- you've got to leave!" she cried.

When he made no move to go she wrapped her arms more tightly around herself and looked up at him in exasperation. "I'm almost done, Matthew, what is it?"

He smiled. "Marion."

She shivered, wishing she could lay down again in the warmth of the bath water but slightly embarrassed of her changing body. "What?" she asked, annoyed.

"Goodness, Mary, I'll turn around!" he conceded, turning his chair. She stayed a moment. It would be just like him to turn around the second she lay back down. When he didn't budge she unfolded herself and sunk back into the comforting warmth of the soapy water.

"For a girl. Marion."

Mary rolled her eyes. "But that's my name."

Matthew sighed impatiently. "It is, but it's not. She'd be her own person, you know. Even if she shared part of her mother's name."

Mary lifted her puckered, slippery fingers out from the water and walked them across her abdomen, pensively. She had to admit, she was attracted to the name. And he was right, it wasn't _so_ similar to her own. It was beautiful.

He turned slightly, just enough so that he could see her face, the rest of her body she had carefully hidden under bubbles. Mary gave him a warning for him to not come any closer. She looked down, hiding a smile. "Maybe."

He smiled, standing up. She cried out and sat up again, furiously trying to cover herself up. He made a little victory sound and leaned down, kissing her head quickly before walking away.

"And don't come back!" she warned, sinking back into her bath, shaking her head at her incorrigible husband.

* * *

The weeks went by, the warm weather inching towards getting cooler, but Downton Abbey full of the warmth that comes before a baby arrives. Cora had pushed Mary towards starting to update the nursery, with Mary half-heartedly protesting that it was too early before joining in. Matthew, without Mary's knowledge, continued to add names to his lists, keeping them inside the drawer of his desk lest she see them and scoff at his choices. The Dowager had even picked up knitting again, attempting to make a blanket for the baby, but more often than not throwing the blasted project aside in frustration over a dropped stitch.

Per Mary's request, Matthew accompanied her on walks in the late afternoon, her arm tucked into his as they strolled leisurely over the smooth, green lawn. They forced themselves to not always talk about the baby. Mary would tell him what she was reading and, frequently, Matthew would also be familiar with the material, giving them something to discuss for a half hour or so as they walked.

It was on one of these walks, near the end of August, when Mary stopped suddenly, her palm going to her abdomen with a gasp. Matthew, instantly panicked, asked her what was wrong, only to be met by a small, timid smile.

"I don't know. Maybe nothing." she said, not wanting to get his hopes up. The feeling had been unlike anything she'd ever felt, almost as if her stomach had twisted suddenly, then let go. She had long anticipated the moment when her child would move, often thinking she felt something, only to be proved wrong. So she waited to feel it again.

Matthew's heart had stopped beating for a moment, but, seeing the calm look on his wife's face, he took her word that everything was alright. He still insisted, however, that they go inside and that she sit down, which she did, to placate him. She smiled delicately through dinner, all the while hoping she'd feel it again. She knew it wouldn't all start at one time, she knew the baby was still too small to cause much of a disruption inside her, but she still wanted nothing more than to feel him move. Or _her, _she reminded herself dutifully.

* * *

The next evening, after climbing into bed, Mary snuggled up to Matthew and shared her suspicion. "Yesterday…"she said, carefully. "I thought I felt the baby move." She said, grinning as she watched his reaction. His smile was wide, and he kissed her, then moved a hand to cradle where their baby lay, amazed.

"I still can't believe there's a little person in there." he said in wonder.

Mary smiled. "Well, there _is." _She kissed his neck. "Now, kiss me before I get cross."

* * *

They slept soundly, entwined in each other's arms. In the middle of the night, however, Matthew woke up to a familiar sound. He rose slowly, but as the sound grew in intensity he sat up, alert.

"Mary?" he asked, coming to find her in the bathroom, leaning over the washbasin, which he saw was filled with vomit. He put a hand on the small of her back, rubbing his eyes.

She turned to him, her hands shaking and her eyes streaming. "Something's not-" she groaned, bending over again. He had never heard her make a sound which conveyed so much pain, and he was instantly paralyzed with fear. She retched again, then looked up at him again, her face the very picture of acute pain. "Matthew, help me!" she cried, her voice breaking.

* * *

_A/N: *jumps off a cliff in fear of reader's reactions* I know! I know! "But everything's going so well!" I can feel the anger coming at me from every direction. It breaks my heart to inflict pain on my beloved characters, but it was my idea for the story in the first place. I promise, there's much more to come. Please, review, "even if it's goodbye". Ha. Okay, not funny. _


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: What you're about to read is horrible, terrible. I think I broke my own heart writing this. For those of you who are going to brave the storm, please know that this is the absolute worst thing I've ever put into a story. However, this IS the basis for the story, so if (as I'm sure many of you will) you hate it, can't read it, think it's the worst thing that you've ever had to read, please stop reading. But know that from here, although there will be angst, there **is **a happy ending. It breaks my heart to inflict pain on my beloved characters. So read if you want to, but please understand that this is just a story, and it **will** get better. _

**Chapter V**

He was paralyzed with fear, his hand still on her lower back. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and it was as if his whole body had been set on fire. He looked back at her, one hand desperately clutching her abdomen and the other wiping sick from her mouth and chin. Mary's eyes were wide and filled with tears as she looked at him, then she grimaced and moaned again, her voice broken, bending over in pain.

"Wh-what is there...Mary, are you-" Matthew couldn't find any words to say, so gripping was his fear.

"Call Dr. Clarkson!"Mary cried, her voice panicked and high.

Matthew nodded, set in motion by her sharp words. He was stationary for a moment, torn between leaving his wife and going to get help for her. As she was still bent over, clutching the washbasin as she became sick again, he assured her of his swift return and left the room, finding Edith's bedchamber down the hall.

"Matthew, what is-" Edith asked sleepily, looking up as he barged into her room, not even thinking of knocking.

"It's Mary," he said quickly. "something's...wrong, can you fetch Clarkson for us?"

Edith sat up, swinging her legs to the side of the bed. "What? But it's the middle of the night!"

Matthew reached for her hand, pulling her up to a standing position. "Edith"

She looked at him, right into his eyes, and then heard her sister's moans carrying from down the hallway. With a shot of realization she drew her hand away, searching in the darkness for her dressing gown. "Yes, of course." she said dryly, tying it around her waist.

Matthew didn't remain a moment longer, rushing back to the bedroom and into the bathroom. He found Mary on the ground, her legs curled into her body, the washbasin pushed aside.

He knelt beside her, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "I've sent Edith to get Clarkson, Mary." he said, not sure she could hear his words. "He'll be here soon."

She grimaced, groaning and bending her head in towards her chest, then gasped for air.

"Mary, please, tell me what's wrong!" he begged, touching her hip, fearing that he already knew the answer.

"I think-" she cried out in pain, suddenly reaching out to take his hand. Hers was sweaty and hot, and it shook as she clutched his hand in a death grip. She looked up at him, and in her eyes he saw the answer to his question. He felt his mouth tremble, but clenched his jaw firmly. He was not allowed to be weak.

A moment of calm surrounded them, and Matthew looked over her curled body on the tile floor. He took a deep breath. "Can I move you to the bed?"

Her eyes softened towards his, and now it was her mouth that trembled, her whole body threatening to break apart. "Yes." she finally said, her voice raspy.

* * *

"Mama?" Mary asked weakly, feeling the bed dip beside her. Her hands clutched the sheets tightly. They were soaked in her sweat.

A soft hand was on her shoulder, and that confirmed it. She willed her eyes to open and was met by her mother's soft gaze.

"Mary." she said simply.

Mary's eyebrows wrinkled together, her trembling lips finally breaking out into a dry sob as she fought against the pain coursing through her body. "Oh, Mama!"

Cora's words were careful, slow. "Mary, Clarkson will be here shortly. Do you want me to stay with you?"

Mary shook her head, although she did take her mother's offered hand and squeezed it tightly. "No, Mama. I can't." she sobbed. "I can't do this!"

Her mother's heart tore in half, looking down at her terror-stricken daughter as she cried out in pain again. She cupped Mary's face her her free hand, looking at her with determination. "You can, I'll be here with you."

Mary shook her head, her breaths short. "I can't, Mama!" she protested.

* * *

Dr. Clarkson knew immediately when he heard the sounds coming from Mary's lighted room what was happening. He came inside, putting his medical bag down and coming towards her, Edith entering in after him. She saw Matthew and her father, helpless as they looked on to Mary and Cora.

Clarkson came by Lady Grantham and looked at her, his expression extremely serious. "How long?"

Cora shook her head. "Maybe an hour." she estimated."She's lost a lot of blood."

Mary, hearing those words, pulled the sheets further up over her body, hiding what she knew was there. "Where is Matthew?" she asked, opening her eyes and wincing.

Matthew moved forward. "Yes, darling, I'm here!" Robert had already pulled Edith outside, out of the room.

Mary shook her head, moaning. "You can't be here! He can't be here!" she cried out, feeling another shock of pain rip through her.

Clarkson nodded, turning around to Matthew. His tone was firm. "You'll need to leave, Matthew."

Cora stood up, moving to him as Clarkson began to speak with Mary. She touched Matthew's arm, looking to his face, which was still turned towards his wife.

"Matthew, I'm sorry." she said. There was nothing more to say. "You'll need to wait until it's all over."

He shook his head, tears falling. "But-but this can't be happening!" he protested in a fervent whisper.

Cora nodded. "You need to be strong, for Mary. She needs you to be strong."

She watched as he left and then returned to Mary, listening to Clarkson as he began to speak softly to her daughter.

"Do you know what's happening, Mary?" he asked, forgoing her title.

She closed her eyes, turning her head away, nodding slowly, her sob coming in a dry gasp.

* * *

The night seemed to go on for an eternity. The house was completely silent, save the sounds from upstairs. Robert and Edith were sitting downstairs while Matthew paced. None of them uttered a single word. They were all painfully aware of the fact that this was all cruelly wrong. They _should_ all be waiting downstairs, pacing and drinking brandy, waiting to hear the wail of a healthy baby. They _should_ be filled with a mixture of fear and anticipation for the wonderful moment when someone would come to tell them the news. There should be cigars waiting. It _should_ be a happy day.

But it was a horrible day. The worst day. Matthew was sweating, shaking as he walked, each cry from upstairs tearing a new hole into his heart. He wanted nothing more than to run to her, to hold her hand, to hold her, to be with her. But at the same time he knew that if he were to go to her he would have to be the strong, stoic one, and he was afraid he couldn't possibly be. He looked to Robert, whose head was in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. Then he looked to Edith, who was looking away, although he knew she had been crying. It was a horrible day. The worst day.

Finally, day broke and the servants began to come up, preparing the fires and gathering any mess left from the night before. As Daisy and two maids passed by the bottom of the staircase, where they all three were, they stopped dead in their tracks. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. And in that moment, with their gazes following Matthew, Edith, and Lord Grantham's, they heard it. A weak cry, and then silence.

Matthew moved, but Lord Grantham held out his hand to stop him. "Wait until Clarkson comes down." he said softly.

The maids looked at one another and turned around, swiftly returning to where they had come.

After nearly a half an hour Dr. Clarkson appeared at the top of the stairs, pausing to look at them before beginning his descent. He wiped his brow, sighing deeply at the sight of them. Matthew looked at him expectantly, his whole body signifying the exhaustion and stress of a sleepless night.

Clarkson took another breath before speaking, and when he did it was in a low, sad tone. "She is as well as can be expected. Lady Grantham and Anna are with her now."

Matthew took a deep breath, not daring to ask the obvious question. Relief flooded through him at hearing Mary was still...alive, but he knew without any words that their baby was gone.

"I'm afraid you will find her much...changed." Clarkson said.

Lord Grantham nodded finally, the only one able to put together words. "Thank you, Dr. Clarkson." he said, standing up.

Clarkson nodded. "I'll see myself out, I think." he said.

The moment he was gone Edith began to cry, and Robert wrapped her in his arms, drawing her close. "There, there. She's alright."

Matthew looked up as the click of a door opening was heard. He waited, they all waited, until Anna appeared at the top of the staircase, her face streaked with tears.

"She's asking for you, Mr. Crawley." she said in a flat, weary tone.

Matthew paused, taking a deep breath, straightening his back, then braved the staircase. It was, he was sure, the worst moment of his life, and as he neared their bedroom he stopped again. He exhaled deeply. _She needs you to be strong, _he chanted silently. _You need to be the strong one. She needs you to be strong. She needs you to be strong. She needs you to be strong._

* * *

She wasn't sleeping, but her eyes were closed. The linens had, of course, been changed. They had washed her as best they could, pulled her hair up, tucked her in the fresh bedclothes ever-so-gently. She felt empty. Empty of emotions, empty of tears, empty of words. Devoid of anything she had had only hours before. She felt him come in, knew he was there instinctively.

"Matthew?" she said softly, almost inaudibly, her voice cracked and raw.

"_Mary," _he said in almost the same way.

She picked up her hand wearily, waving for him to come over.

He came to her, kneeling beside the bed where her head rested. She turned her head towards him, opening her eyes, which were no longer red. Gone was the sparkle normally inhabiting them.

"I'm sorry." she said.

He shook his head. "Don't, don't." he urged in a soothing tone.

She nodded. "I'm sorry." she repeated.

He took her hand in his, and at his touch and his look, so deep into her eyes, she coughed one last sob. And then she felt his arms wrap so carefully around her, his large hands coming to rest over her shoulder blades. His chin rested on her shoulder, and she tucked hers into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. She felt him tremble on her shoulder as he cried. She knew he was holding back. Were it not for the fact that she had cried all of her available tears during the course of the night, she would have cried with him. So she rubbed her hand across his back, shushing him gently, pressing her lips against his neck. Within moments, he stopped, pressing his own kiss against her shoulder, then behind her ear.

"We'll be alright." she said softly.

"Oh, my darling." he said, and his grip tightened on her. She wanted him to clasp her so tightly that she would break. She wanted them to clutch each other as if their lives depended on it. And so she did, she pulled him impossibly close, sighing at the pressure, despite her incredible fatigue.

"Oh, Mary." he kept saying, stroking her hair, kissing her head. And they mourned, for a moment, their loss, before it was too much and they had to break away.

_A/N: Please review, even to say you're not continuing to read. For those of you who still choose to say, thank you. I know I'll lose a lot of people here. But I **promise **you that there is a happy ending to this fic. _


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I want to give you all a super huge shout out for reviewing, alerting, and favoriting this story so early on in the game! I was honestly terrified to post the last chapter, but I didn't get ONE angry response, so I'm taking that as a sign that people are into the story and are confident I will eventually fix things! Here's Chapter VI!_

**Chapter VI**

The house had stayed almost silent in the two weeks that followed. The loss of the baby was never brought up, never mentioned, although everyone thought of it constantly. Dinners were awkward as they all tried to make conversation, failing abysmally at keeping any talk going for more than five minutes. Matthew was the quietest one of all, save Mary, who had stayed in bed for almost the full fortnight. He didn't even make an effort to engage in the feeble excuse for conversation at mealtimes, and would retire as soon as was socially acceptable, although the rules seemed to have a tendency to bend in cases such as these. He had slept apart from Mary since...since that day. Each night he would go to her room, knock at the door, wait for her quiet reply, and come in to kiss her goodnight before going back to his dressing room.

_You'll find her much...changed. _Clarkson's words echoed in Matthew's head. He was painfully aware of the fact that she _had _changed. She shied away from his lips, making it only possible to kiss her quickly on the cheek before he left for bed. She too was devoid of any ability to direct conversation. Matthew knew, of course, that he couldn't expect her to come back quickly. He knew it would take time before they were well again. But could they ever be really, truly well again? Was that possible after what had happened?

At his mother's advice Matthew had kept a respectful distance, trying to focus on work. He wrote letters, read, and continued work with his father-in-law on plans for the estate. Yet Mary was always in his mind. He knew that her heart was broken, but he didn't know how to mend it. He had to physically stop himself from going upstairs to check on her. He limited himself to going up no more than five times a day. Each time he would visit her they would speak for a few moments, with Mary clearly not focused on him, and him clearly focused on her. The tension was painful. His own ache would lift even the slightest bit if he could feel her in his arms, even sense the reassuring weight of her next to him while they slept, hear her soft breaths in the darkness. But the closest they had come to touching each other had been his soft goodnight kiss, with nothing reciprocated from her.

It was with a heavy heart, then, that Matthew knocked on her door after waking up and dressing on Saturday morning. He knew what awaited him beyond that cursed door. He had already rehearsed it.

_"Good morning."_

_"Good morning."_

_"How are you feeling, darling?"_

_"I'm well."_

_"The leaves are starting to turn...have you seen the trees?"_

_"Yes, I looked at them yesterday."_

He heard her voice answer his knock from inside and he opened the white door, finding her sitting up in bed with the breakfast tray set aside, her book already open on her lap.

"Good morning." she initiated this time, taking a sip of tea and not matching her eyes with his.

"Good morning, darling." he said, his voice soft. There was a beautiful earnestness to his words. He eyed the breakfast tray, seeing one half of a piece of toast nibbled away, two slices of apples missing. "Are you not hungry?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "No, not this morning." She set her novel aside and sat up, bringing her legs to the side of the bed and standing up. She put a steadying hand on the bed before standing up straight and moving to get her dressing gown, wincing as she tied it in place, the fabric tightening over her chest.

"Mary, are you alright?" he asked, concerned at her gasp of pain.

She nodded, going over to the window and pulling the curtain open. "It's nothing."

They were greeted by the same grey sky and faded sun as usual, and Mary busied herself with pulling back the curtains, determined to not meet his eye.

"Maybe another day in bed would be-"

"I'm perfectly alright, Matthew. "Mary snapped. "My milk's come in, that's all. You don't need to concern yourself."

He sighed, speaking in a calm voice. "But it _does_ concern me, Mary. I wish you would let me-"

She turned, twisting her mouth before speaking so she would not cry. "I wish you wouldn't, Matthew! It's too soon!"

He felt like she had slapped him, but dismissed it almost immediately. She was entitled to her emotions. More than anyone.

Their initially genial moment was ruined, and Matthew could think of nothing else to do other than leave her there. She had put up her mask, blocking all emotion, and he was powerless against it. He had fought for her to lower it before, and he had won in the end. But now she was protecting herself again, and this time she would have to lower the mask with her own hands.

As Matthew turned to leave the room Mary sighed inaudibly, resting a hand against the wall as she had done all those years ago during the war and cupped a palm over her mouth, inhaling sharply against it. She felt the sting of coming tears, but bit her lip, willing them to stop, which they did. She looked up, out the window and down at the treetops and gravel path. The leaves were shifting from yellowed-green to red and orange, it seemed as if it was only yesterday that everything was sunny and green and bright and alive, and now..._everything_ had changed.

She moved to ring the bell for Anna.

* * *

A few days passed, and Mary began to make appearances downstairs. Her presence alone lifted everyone's spirits greatly. Lord Grantham looked on worriedly, however, at his eldest daughter. She was, and always had been, a wondrously convincing actress. She had a gift for not betraying herself. And that, he realized with a pang of sadness, was what she was doing now. She participated in conversations during meals, although rarely eating more than a quarter of what was on her plate; smiled dutifully at the few amusing remarks that they managed to generate. But he knew better than to trust her in this. He had seen it all before, when Matthew was engaged to Lavinia. He knew her well, knew that she had put up every possible shield and that it was taking all of the energy she possessed to continually hold them up around her.

He noticed how Mary purposefully avoided Matthew. Whether it was a look across the table at dinner or a slight flinch at his touch on her elbow before they retired. It was not like them at all. _But they've just lost a child. We've all lost a child._

* * *

Mary hadn't been able to sleep for days, weeks even. She lay in bed until the small hours of the morning, reading or merely laying there, eyes open, unable to fathom the idea of closing them even for a moment. Because it was then that she remembered, then that she felt it most acutely. She had thought that the worst of it had passed until her body had prepared itself to feed the baby it thought she had given birth to. The pain of her breasts had been a cruel reminder of what could have been, of what wasn't. And now even that had passed.

Her husband lay in the room next to hers, just as sleep deprived as she was. He tried reading, something that always seemed to help Mary, but it didn't help. He found pacing relaxing, and found himself resorting to it often. Occasionally he would hear movement from what was now solely Mary's room and know she was awake as well, but that they were painfully separated from each other. He debated going to her, even if it was to say goodnight again. Something, anything.

One night he struck up the courage to go to her, and walked out in his bare feet into the corridor, seeing the light creeping out from underneath her door. Knocking timidly upon the wood panelling, he took a deep breath, hearing the bedclothes stir as she sat up in surprise.

"Matthew?"

He opened the door and stepped inside, leaving it ajar as he turned to look at her. "I can't sleep."

She looked at her lap. "Neither can I."

He paused, then moved closer to the bed, taking her vanity stool and sitting upon it, facing her. "Maybe we can not sleep together." he said, a peace offering. Their dispute from days past had hung in the air between them uncomfortably, and he knew one of them had to say something about it.

She smiled to herself, allowing him his joke. The space between them was not large, and yet she seemed miles away from him.

"It was a boy." she said suddenly, her words catching in her throat. She did not look up.

Matthew's breath hitched. This was the first anyone had said about it. He waited silently, not daring to say anything lest he make matters worse.

"Clarkson asked me if I wanted to see him...that's what he said...'him'."

Matthew was on the edge of the small stool, waiting for a sign, a signal that meant he could finally go to her. He heard her gasp in release and look up at him, her eyes imploring. "I didn't look at him, Matthew!"

Whether it was her proper signal or not, Matthew didn't know. But he stood then, and went to her, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. Her legs were crossed in front of her and she pulled them up, underneath her nightgown like a child, wrapping her arms around her own legs and resting her cheek against them, her eyebrows knitting with the effort to keep herself from cracking open like an egg in front of him. "I could have...I could have seen him...held him. But I didn't!" she cried out the last three words bitterly, as if cutting a knife into her chest.

Matthew moved towards her body and saw her silent permission, wrapping his arms around her small, compacted form. She sighed at his touch, allowing herself to sink into it. She slowly uncurled her legs, breathing in the scent of him around her. "I didn't see our son!" she whispered, holding back a sob.

He smoothed a hand over her loose hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He didn't know what to say. There was nothing he _could_ say.

"I thought I was going to be some kind of mother." Mary said, her voice muffled in his shoulder. "And I didn't even hold my own child!"

Matthew pressed another kiss behind her ear, and that broke her. Mary cracked open, shattering into a thousand tears, gasping and clutching his shirt tightly in her hands. He pulled her to him, holding her in his arms like a child while she poured herself out to him. He rubbed his hand along her back, feeling her body shake with her sobs.

"Mary," he breathed into her soft hair. Just saying her name comforted him, and he felt her relax more into his arms. She felt so incredibly small.

He felt dampness on his shoulder. She had begun to cry tears. "It's my fault." she moaned, distraught.

He pulled her back from him slightly, looking her in the eyes. "It is _not _your fault." He said it firmly, leaving no room for questions.

She closed her eyes as tears continued to flow out of them. "I wasn't careful enough! I walked too much, we _made love, _Matthew..."

He shook his head. "This was out of our hands, Mary. Nobody caused this to happen."

She opened her eyes, staring deeply into his.

"Do you believe me?" he implored her. She hesitated, then placed her head back on his shoulder.

"Not yet." she kissed his neck softly, pleading him to give her time. Because she needed time. So much more time.

* * *

_A/N: Please, like always, send in your reviews! This chapter was a bit of a transition chapter. I didn't want to go straight from the event itself to immediate reconciliation. Mary's still very wary of opening herself up, and she obviously blames herself (although no one is to blame at all). And poor poor Matthew! All he wants is to comfort her! He's putting his own pain on the back burner because he loves her so much! GOD THESE TWO! I also wanted to give a shout out to **tayababy **who drew the connection between the title of this fic and the song of the same name by Death Cab For Cutie. All of my stories are titled after songs I find appropriate for them, so I love getting a review from someone who recognizes it! Sorrryyyy, long note. Reviews, please!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Sorry for the longer wait! But here it is! Chapter 7! _

**Chapter VII**

Any hopes Matthew had of reconciliation with Mary were dashed the next morning. He had held her until she stopped crying, after which she climbed out of his arms and back under her covers, laying down and whispering "Goodnight" softly, not inviting him to join her. He had gone back to his room, continuing to lay awake until much later than usual, hopeful that this moment would bring them closer, but it did not. If anything, Mary withdrew herself even further from Matthew. He realized now that her greatest fear was appearing to be weak, and that she had now felt defeated in that goal in front of Matthew, the person she trusted and looked up to the most. Fearful of further perceived embarrassment, she pulled further away, baring her cool façade while inside she felt like falling into pieces, shattering like a pearl necklace with parts of her falling to every corner of the room.

So he too held back. It was clear now, more than ever before, that she wanted none of his company, so he stayed away from her. Hearing his mother's firm words of advice in his head that he should "let Mary come to you", he stayed alert, waiting for a signal from her. But he knew it would be a long time coming. Her distance was weathering his spirit, as he had no one to share his own pain with.

Matthew was rolling in his own guilt, even after assuring Mary that neither party was to blame. He was consumed with placing the blame on his own contribution to her pregnancy. Had he given her a child too weak to grow, or too mutated to survive? Was their child compromised in some way by their lovemaking, no matter how certain Mary was that it wouldn't be? And it pained him, above all else, to relive the sound of her moans and cries as she was forced to deliver their baby, still under five months old, and end her painful labor with no joyful fruition.

* * *

"Mary?"

She looked up from her lap, marking the page in with her index finger and folding the book up over it.

"Granny? No one told me you were here!" Mary exclaimed with a wide smile as her grandmother came into the drawing room. She chose a chair opposite the setee Mary was occupying and rested her cane at an angle against it, placing her hands on her lap.

"Yes, well it was you, dear, that I wanted to see." she explained as Mary set her book down. "I've told Carson to bring tea." she finished.

"Well, it's always a pleasure to see you!" Mary said again in a high, cheerful voice. Her grandmother waved her hand in annoyance.

"You needn't be quite so joyous, my dear, it doesn't suit you." Granny said with a cough, looking up as Anna brought a tea-tray in and set it on the small table between the two women. She looked at Lady Mary and gestured to the small sandwiches on a plate beside the tea.

"Mrs. Patmore made cucumber sandwiches for you, milady." Anna said encouragingly.

Mary smiled. "That's very kind. Thank her for me, will you?" she said, taking a sandwich and placing it on the edge of her saucer, not intending to take a bite from it.

"Thank you, Anna." she said again as Anna curtsied and left.

Mary took a sip of her tea and was met with her grandmother's never-flinching look from across the room.

"You're not well, Mary." she stated.

Mary was taken aback. "Of course I'm _well_, Granny, I-" she spluttered.

"Nonsense. Look at you! You look as if a breath of wind would knock you to the ground! You are not well, child."

It was surprising, actually, for someone to confront her with the truth. All of her family were so wonderfully valiant in their efforts to make her feel better and happier. Her grandmother, however, was having none of Mary's play-acting. She simply didn't have the patience for it.

"Now, eat that sandwich." she commanded, leaving Mary no choice but to take a small bite from the edge of it.

"Losing a baby is the worst thing that can happen to a woman." The Countess of Grantham said suddenly, taking a sip of her own tea before setting it in its saucer beside her on a small lamp table. She watched as a shadow flickered through Mary's eyes.

"I know because I lost one."

Mary looked up, her shield completely gone, before she pulled it back up again.

"Before your aunt Rosamund was born. "she explained quickly, not wishing to dwell on it, knowing the details would bring Mary pain.

Mary nodded and took a second sip of tea and (thank God) another bite of the sandwich. "I didn't know."

Her grandmother cleared her throat. "Mary, listen to me. You think you know what love is until you have a baby." she coughed again, watching as Mary looked purposefully past her and out the window. "You will love that child more than you have ever loved anyone. Yes, even your husband."

Mary looked at her grandmother disparagingly. "Really, Granny, this isn't help-"

"I am not finished!" she interjected."This event has tested you harshly, my dear, but it isn't the end. You _will _have a child." she picked up her tea again and nodded her head towards Mary. "There, I've said everything."

Mary took a deep breath. "I don't want _a _child. I want _that _child. My...baby," she said the word softly, like she wasn't sure it was even a word at all "was everything I wanted. And it was...Oh, Granny, I can't talk about this with you!" she stood up.

"Then who _will_ you talk to, Mary?" her strong grandmother countered."Matthew? Your mother? Edith? Who will you let in? You refuse your husband from even looking at you at dinner, you flinch away from every touch from anyone, you haven't eaten a proper meal in a month! You always were stubborn, my dear, "she said, her tone softening "but you must allow someone to hold your hand in this."

* * *

Edith knocked delicately on the door of the nursery, which her mother had been re-decorating until a month ago, when the door had been firmly shut and not reopened. But Edith had found it ajar, and, rapping on it softly, saw her older sister inside the room, folding up wallpapers and stuffing them into a large box.

"Mary?" she asked timidly, not wanting to startle or upset her sister.

Mary looked up and smiled wearily. "Oh, hello, Edith."

Edith stepped inside the room and folded her hands behind her back. "What are you doing?"

Mary sighed and put her hand on her hip, gesturing around. "Well, it's no use to us like this, so I thought I might transform it into something more useful." her happy-tone was alarming.

"What do you mean?" Edith prodded.

"Oh, I don't know, a day sitting room, or a small study. There's wonderful light that comes in during the afternoon." she folded up another piece of paper and set it in the box. "What are you doing?" she asked absentmindedly.

Edith clutched the paper in her hands. "We've received a letter from Sybil." she revealed.

Mary's eyebrows went up. "Oh? And how is she?"

Edith held out the opened letter. "She writes that she's coming home to visit."

Mary looked up and took the proffered letter, opening it and scanning her sister's elegant script. She swallowed, then looked up, putting on a smile. "Well, that's lovely!"

Her stomach was churning. _The other night, Mama, I was thinking of this person inside of me, and how we'll met him in only a few short months. How lovely it will be to finally know the one who's been kicking me so persistently! _Mary swallowed. She was happy for her sister, truly happy. But underneath the happiness she was bitterly overcome with jealousy. Oh, how she had longed for their baby to move! She would have gladly put up with months of discomfort, weeks waiting, and then painful hours of labor in order to bring her miracle into the world. And she was jealous of her younger sister, because she was able to do those things, and she feared she was incapable.

She remembered Matthew's words as she lay in bed at night. He had assured her that it had not been her fault, yet Mary felt an incredible frustration growing within herself. She felt absolutely out of control of her own body, and it frightened her terribly. She could not have controlled the time her body chose was the right one to begin nurturing the tiny mesh of genes that would eventually grow to be a baby. She could no more control that than she could control losing it. She remembered being on the floor, pressing her knees together to ward off what she knew was coming. And she had been helpless in bed as all remnants of what could have been slipped out of her. And now she fought for control over her self, her own body. Over her emotions and gestures and words. It was all she could do.

* * *

"May I come in?" Matthew asked softly, opening Mary's bedroom door.

She lifted her head from the pillows and nodded. He closed the door and it clicked behind him. He came to sit by the edge of the bed, leaning over to kiss her offered cheek and say "Goodnight, darling". He lingered for a second before pulling away from her. Her eyes were sleepy and calm as she looked at him, worn out from a particularly long week. He smiled softly.

"Mary, "he said, then stopped, not wanting to push her.

She pulled away from him, pulling her braid to drape over her right shoulder. "Yes?"

"Could I...could I stay here tonight? With you, I mean?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, hearing his gentle breathing and smelling his comforting smell. "I suppose so, but I-"

He nodded. "Don't worry, darling. I know."

In a few moments he returned, climbing gingerly into bed beside her. She was already curled up beneath the covers, only the milky skin of her neck and shoulders visible. He turned off the lamp and heard her move, turning over onto her other side and facing away from him.

He lay there, absolutely still, clinging to her every inhale and exhale. He could feel her small presence next to him, smell the lavender of her lotion and the rose of her perfume lingering from the day. In her sleep she moved closer to him, and he could feel the warmth from her in the space between them. He willed himself to go to sleep, cherishing the fact that she was next to him, and that she had let him back in to their bed after what seemed like an eternity.

Suddenly, she shifted, stretching her arms and legs and inching backwards so that her back was lightly against him. He exhaled, longing to caress her arm or touch her hair, but he held back.

She moaned slightly in her sleep, her arm coming out of the covers and resting over her chest. He took his hand and dared to rest it upon her small white shoulder, feeling her skin through the thin nightgown. It had not rested moments there, however, when she jolted awake again, squirming and moaning in protest.

"No!" she said, moving away from him. Matthew jerked his hand away instantly, scared from her abrupt movement, and moved to apologize. As if she had sensed this, she shook her head against the pillows.

"Please, no."

* * *

_A/N: I'm so proud of this chapter, but I know it was incredibly angsty. Sorry! Next chapter, Sybil will come and visit! And so hopefully things will be just a bit lighter. I'm predicting maybe two more chapters of sad sad sad and then moving on towards the end of this. So please review away, because nothing makes my day better than hearing your thoughts!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Hello! I know it's only been a couple of days since I updated, but I wrote this in a couple hours this evening and didn't feel like waiting to post it! Enjoy!_

**Chapter VIII**

Timid sunlight melted through the sheer curtains the next morning, casting muted beams across their bedroom. Matthew opened his eyes, squinting at the daylight. He stretched and looked to the other side of the bed, where Mary was curled up. The light shone past her hair, giving the ends of it a red-golden hue. He dared not move lest he awaken her, wanting to spend as much time next to her precious form as possible.

She moaned quietly and stretched, her small feel briefly entangling with Matthew's before she lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, obviously having woken up. She sighed tiredly and sat up, turning to look down at him and allowing a small smile to grace her lips.

"Good morning." she said, turning away from the sun.

"Good morning, darling." he answered, stretching his arms above his head and sitting up, ready to leave and go to his dressing room.

"No," Mary interjected, holding her hand out for him. She remembered her grandmother's words from before. "stay." she entreated shyly.

He was surprised, but pulled the covers back over his legs. After hesitating a moment she leaned forward and rested her head under his on his chest, draping an arm over him. He put an arm on her back and moved his fingertips over her shoulder blades, trying to ignore the delightful feeling of her warm breasts pressed against him.

She inhaled deeply and ran her hand along his broad chest, dropping her head to place a soft kiss on it. He kissed the top of her head, smelling the sweet scent of her hair. While seeming commonplace in light of what the couple's intimacy usually entailed, the moment seemed to Matthew to be the most intimate thing he had ever done, and he pulled the sheets further over them to disguise his body's inevitable response to her.

* * *

They all noticed the change. It was slow, drawn out, yet they noticed. Mary would meet Matthew's eyes across the table during mealtimes like before, allow him to place a hand on the small of her back when they went through -she was even beginning to eat more. Within the small sphere the two of them shared each touch was treasured, each word cherished. They were both walking on eggshells, frightened of hurting themselves, or their other half with just one misstep, one wrong word.

Mary had begun to let him hold her at night, wrapping herself up in his arms and loving the gentle brush of his breath on the back of her neck as he slept. The shelter of his body proved to be conducive to sleeping well, and she would relax in the warm protection of him against her, falling into dreamless sleep and awakening just the same way she had fallen asleep.

So it was with confusion and worry that Mary woke up one night to find Matthew's arms were not around her. She sat up and looked around the room, not seeing him. Then she saw that his dressing gown was missing from the chair it was habitually draped over, and she got out of bed, taking her own gown and wrapping it around her before venturing out into the corridor in search of her husband.

* * *

She found him in the library, having seen the sliver of honeyed light cut out through the darkness from the open doors. She went in, seeing him sitting in front of the dark fireplace on a plush chair, swirling a brandy in his left hand. He didn't notice her, and looked extremely pensive. At first Mary guessed he was deeply engrossed in a book, but then she realized as she approached him that a crumpled piece of paper was resting on his knee, no book in sight.

He looked up and jumped slightly, seeing her walking to him. Her alabaster skin shone like a moon in a cloudless sky in the semi-darkness, the only source of light being a small desk lamp Matthew had turned on. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered slightly.

"It's cold."

Matthew chuckled darkly. "Why not have a brandy?"

She made as if to sit down on the settee across from him, but at his words she stopped, then stood again.

"Oh, Mary, I was only-"

"No, no. I think I will." she said, venturing to the bar and making herself a drink she knew she wouldn't handle well.

"Be careful." he warned as she sat back down. Matthew watched as she tipped her glass back, taking a delicate sip and smiling slightly, before grimacing and biting her lip. He smiled, the drink had already blurred the edges of his thoughts.

"Why did you come down here?" Mary asked innocently, boldly taking another sip as Matthew finished his.

He shook his head. "I couldn't sleep."

She smiled. "So you came to have a drink? That isn't like you." she noticed him pick up the crinkled paper and fold it into a careful square. She didn't like this Matthew. He was quiet, and dark.

"What is that?" she asked, her throat feeling pleasantly warm and her voice velvet-smooth.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Matthew?" she was genuinely worried now, put off by his abrupt manner. She realized now with a rush of guilt that he was unconsciously repeating her treatment of him in the past month and a half. Standing up, she moved to where he sat and perched on an arm of the chair, taking his empty glass from his hand and setting it beside her on the small lamp table.

He exhaled in submission as Mary's fingers brushed against his, making them relinquish their hold on the paper. He turned away as she unfolded it carefully, her eyebrows coming together in concentration.

He heard her breath hitch as he continued to look into the empty fireplace, then felt her hand rest on his shoulder, tips of fingers stroking the hair at the back of his neck.

"Matthew." she whispered, her voice terribly soft.

He turned to her, ashamed of the tears in his eyes. _You need to be strong, for Mary. She needs you to be strong. _He looked down and saw that she had pressed the list of names against her chest.

"I'm so sorry, Mary." he said, his voice low but smooth.

Her dark eyes looked down to the list, two columns of a dozen or so names each, some scratched out, others circled hopefully, then she looked at him. "No."

And then he felt her lips brush like a feather against his own. She pulled back, almost as if too shy to continue, but he pulled her to him, his mouth enveloping hers in a sweet clash of salty tears and warm amber alcohol. They swallowed up each other's gasps and instead clutched more tightly to each other, the barriers had fallen.

"It's alright." she said, cupping his cheek in her palm as she broke away for an instant. He pulled her to him again, and she then she was awkwardly straddling him in the plush chair, her knees pressing against the seat of it until he moved and she wrapped her slender legs around his body. Emboldened by the liqueur and the growing heat between them, Matthew let his hand trace the soft curve from her waist up to the side of her breast, before running it down her back.

Their heavy breaths filled the air between them and became the air they breathed. Matthew ran his hands along her body, felt her ribs protruding with each frantic inhalation and tasting her exposed clavicle lit up by the lamplight. When they broke apart finally, chests rising and falling, Mary rested her forehead against Matthew's, breathing deeply. They didn't say anything, but their blue and brown-black eyes conveyed it all. An ocean of sadness and a longing to bring each other closer, to fill the gaps where the bones came through. To heal each other.

"I love you."

* * *

When Sybil arrived two days later, her stomach round and her cheeks rosy, with Tom faithfully by her side, her welcome was warm and inviting. Matthew patted Tom's back in congratulations and even Lord Grantham himself was happy to see his son-in-law and precious daughter. Violet watched as Mary struggled with every fiber of her being to tear her eyes away from Sybil's protruding abdomen. She strove to do this with constant conversation, and after Sybil had freshened up, the three sisters cozied together in one corner of the drawing room, gossiping and catching up with each other.

Sybil was aware of her elder sister's miscarriage, having been informed of it from her mother in a letter over a month ago. She had felt nervous arriving, showing up so obviously with child while her sister was woefully aware of her lack of one. Upon seeing Mary, she knew she would have to bring it up at some point, and as Edith went to go call for tea, Sybil took her sister's hand in hers.

"Mary, I just wanted to say," she began. Her sister fixed her with a brave, fixed expression. "that I'm sorry."

Mary smiled dutifully and patted Sybil's hand with her free one. "I'm alright, darling. Don't worry about me."

Sybil smiled uncertainly and sat back in the chair. She knew to change the subject quickly from Mary's cool manner. "When will we eat?" she asked, honestly famished. She had the baby to thank for that. She watched as Mary's eyes fell into her lap quickly, a shadow crossing over her face, before she looked up again, just the same as ever.

* * *

On the second day Sybil was with them they retired to the drawing room after dinner and Sybil begged Mary to sit beside her, wanting to hear all about Edith's "adventures" with a certain Sir Anthony Strallan. Mary obliged her little sister gladly, and it wasn't long before Sybil's giggles could be heard around the room. Suddenly, her eyes wide, she looked up at Mary, grinning.

"If you put your hand just here you can feel it kick." she said reverently.

Seeing the smile fall from a moment from Mary's face, she shook herself slightly. "No, no, nevermind." she said quickly, trying to think of something to distract from what she had just said.

Mary recovered her façade and gave Sybil a small smile. "Could I?" she asked.

Sybil nodded, taking Mary's hand and placing it on the side of her abdomen. She held up her index finger.

"You have to be patient, sometimes it- there!" she said, giggling as the child inside her kicked just left of where Mary's palm was.

Mary had jumped slightly, but pulled her hand completely away when the baby kicked again, this time directly underneath her palm. She gave her best wide smile to Sybil, laughing with her. It _was_ marvelous. Incredible. A miracle. After a few more minutes of innocent talk, however, she could take it no more, and politely excused herself under the guise of having a headache. She climbed the stairs slowly, deliberately, knowing that if she were still pregnant she would be feeling the same things as Sybil. But she wasn't.

And yet Mary was so very happy for her.

* * *

Matthew waited a half hour before following Mary upstairs. He had seen the exchange between the two sisters, and knew that it had settled badly for his wife. For all the strength they had seemed to garner up within the last two weeks, he knew that seeing a vibrant, soon-to-be-mother Sybil would test Mary.

He found her, as he expected, already in bed. Perhaps she really did have a headache, he thought to himself. She looked up as he came in, already dressed in his pajamas.

"I was wondering when you'd come up."

He gave her a knowing look. "I feel wretched leaving poor Tom down there with your father."

She laughed and reached for him the moment he was in bed. He readily obliged, pulling her close. It was obvious that she had no desire to discuss what had happened, and he wouldn't push her. If he had learned one thing from Mary, it was that she would tell him in her own good time what was upsetting to her, and pushing her would only end in grief. So he lost himself in her lips and sighed as her fingers worked magic through his hair and along his chest.

They were both frightened in their own ways of doing anything beyond this, so they savored the moment, drinking in each other's kisses and pleased sighs and forgetting their troubles for however short a time.

* * *

_A/N: I wanted to give a big thank you to those of you who continually review, or even just drop a couple of words in to encourage me on! It's so nice and it really makes it easier to write at the end of the day. I welcome your critique and advice regarding anything! Ciao! _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

Having her dearest sister back home was successful in clearing Mary's head, allowing her to take her mind off her own problems and focus them on the impending event of becoming an aunt. She listened eagerly with Edith and their mother as Sybil shared names she was considering for the baby, laughed easily at Tom and Matthew's brotherly joking after dinner, and even got along with Edith as the three sisters caught up.

It was a marvel to them all, but Mary and Edith seemed to have struck up an unspoken agreement to be civil to each other. They even managed to laugh together occasionally, astonishing their parents, who had never, in the whole course of their daughters' lives, seen the two be anything other than biting to one another.

After two weeks, knowing if they were to remain at Downton any longer Sybil would be terribly uncomfortable on the journey back (Cora had already chided her daughter for traveling in her condition), Tom and Sybil prepared to return to Ireland. Their visit seemed terribly short, but they promised to return with the baby in the new year.

On the morning of their departure Mary came in to Sybil's old room to find her sister packing up the last of her things. She placed a floral-papered hat box on the bed next to one of her sister's cases and nodded encouragingly as Sybil walked over to it curiously.

Sybil took the lid off the hat box and looked up at her sister.

"Mary, what are all these things?" she asked, pulling out white cotton with lace trim.

"They're for you." Mary said with a smile, taking a blue piece out and holding it up for Sybil to see.

Sybil shook her head. "No, Mary, these aren't mine." she began to pick up the baby clothing and place them carefully back into the box.

Mary looked surprised. "Of course they're yours, darling! We all wore them!"

Sybil shook her head again. "No, Mary, I can't take them."

"Don't be silly, I'm giving them to you!"

Sybil took her sister's hand. "These clothes are for _your _baby. Not mine, not anyone else's."

Mary bit her lip. "Sybil, that's not-"

Sybil squeezed Mary's hand. "You don't have to think about it now. There's no one pressuring you and Matthew to...produce an heir!" she waved her hand around for effect."It will happen when you both are ready."

"You sound like Granny." Mary said, smiling wearily.

"Well you know more than anyone else she's always right."

Mary looked up and met her sister's eyes, which were twinkling. "Now, "Sybil said sternly, "go and put these away. You'll take them down another time."

Mary felt odd, being more or less scolded by someone three years her junior. She was used to doing the chastising. But she obeyed nevertheless, shutting the lid and picking the box up. Sybil smiled at her sympathetically.

"Mary?" she said as Mary was leaving the room.

"Mmm?"

Sybil ran a hand over her stomach. "You will...eventually? Won't you?"

Mary considered, then nodded. "Eventually."

* * *

Matthew kissed Sybil's cheek as they all said goodbye, smiling warmly at her as she stepped back from him. Sybil smiled in return and seemed to hesitate slightly before opening her mouth. Matthew looked at her questioningly. She sighed, apparently deciding that she was going to say something.

"Sybil?" he asked, "What is it?"

She leaned closer to him. "You're wonderful, Matthew. Really. For being patient with Mary." Sybil said in a low voice. "Not very many people are."

As they waved them off in the car Mary walked over to Matthew, who put a hand just above her hip and kissed her cheek with a smile.

"What did Sybil say to you?" Mary asked quietly, her fingers fiddled with his lapels.

"Oh nothing, just saying goodbye."

Mary smirked a little and leaned up to kiss his cheek as well. "That's alright, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." she teased.

* * *

Matthew looked up from his book as Mary stood up from her vanity table, the material of her gown breezing as she walked over to him. She climbed up into bed, tucking her feet under the covers. She didn't lie down, but looked at him with a slightly amused expression. Matthew was trying to put the sensual image of her he had just been presented with out of his head. And he was failing, miserably. He tried to not dwell on how the white fabric had clung to her slight frame as she had walked towards him, completely unaware of his unabashed gaze. Just as he tried now to not react to the enticing slip of her gown off her shoulder and her hair which hung loose down her back.

"What?" she asked quietly. He knew from the tone of voice that she knew exactly _what. _

"You...you're _beautiful." _

She could do it. She was ready. She took a deep breath, her heart racing. Slowly, deliberately, carefully, she reached forward and picked his book up, closing it, then reaching over to put it on her bedside table on top of her own book. She inched forward to him, and as his hands found her waist she felt gooseflesh spring up along her whole body. Mary's fingertips made shy contact with the base of his neck, stroking along his shoulders and down to his chest and pulling herself closer to him.

A low groan vibrated through Matthew's throat and he muffled it in her neck as he pushed the covers away to lean forward and meet her. He pressed hot, fervent kisses along her neck and jaw, finally finding her mouth and relishing the soft sigh his kiss provoked from her. As her hands became more urgent, tugging at the buttons of his shirt, Matthew broke apart from her, tasting his own heartbeat as he looked at her. Her eyes were dark and penetrating as she looked back at him.

"Mary."

She continued unbuttoning his shirt but did not break eye contact. "What?"

He stilled her fingers for a moment. "Are you sure?"

She took a deep breath, the need flowing through her outweighing any fears she had harbored. She nodded. "I'm sure."

In no time at all she had rid Matthew of his shirt, and now his hands were on her, each handprint a searing hot touch through the thin material of her nightgown. His fingers found the hem of it and began to drag it further up, revealing the smooth flesh of her legs, then the flatness of her stomach. She squirmed a little, and helped him pull the garment over her head, her brown-black hair fanning out under her head.

He hesitated a moment. Only in that split-second of time did he realize the full extent of her suffering. With each inhalation he saw the shadows of her ribs strain against her skin, and his hand brushed over a sharply defined hip bone.

"Oh, Mary." he whispered, bending down and kissing her neck, her shoulders, her chest. Her whimpers at these gentle ministrations spiked to a sudden cry as he moved between her legs, his hands barely touching her thighs before she moved them apart. She raised herself up off the bed just enough to see his head at the apex of her thighs and the sight caused her to promptly throw herself back, gripping the sheets around her tightly as his mouth worked magic at her center.

Matthew felt desire surge straight to his groin at the sound of his name on her lips, and he moaned loudly, holding her hips down gently as she bucked against his mouth.

"Matthew-what?" Mary cried in distress as his mouth left her. She was on fire, her body coated in a fine layer of sweat. She groaned in frustration as he shed his pants, but then he was pressed firmly to her.

He waited for her quick nod before filling her. Mary, already perched precariously on the edge of her release, almost sobbed at the contact, grinding her hips automatically against Matthew's. Her fingers raked through his hair and her gasps broke out against his ear.

He was moving inside her, and almost immediately Mary broke, crying out her release, screaming his name. She was riding on a cloud, swimming in a pure joyous pleasure that encompassed every particle of her.

"Oh, Matthew!" she cried again as he continued to pull her hips to him, moving faster as his own release approached.

The exclamation pushed him over the edge, and he moaned her own name as he felt ecstasy begin to overtake him.

"No, no! Stop!" Suddenly he felt her palms smash against him, pushing surprisingly hard to his chest until she threw him off her, sudden tears breaking out from her eyes.

Matthew cried out in pain and mortification as he finished unceremoniously on the bedclothes. She was nearly in hysterics. Crying and apologizing and spluttering as she reached for him, desperate to undo her mistake.

"Just-give me a minute, Mary." he said through clenched teeth, holding a hand out to stop her from coming any closer.

She nodded, wiping her tears as best she could and pulling part of the sheets to cover herself.

"Matthew, I'm so sorry!" she cried.

He took a deep breath, turning to face her. She looked so small, sitting there with the white sheet raised up around her breasts. She shivered, missing the warmth of him.

"I'm so sorry." she said again.

Matthew took a moment, then shook his head. "It's alright, it doesn't matter."

She was close to tears again. "Matthew!"

He reached for her, and drew her thin body to him, the sheet falling off her. "Mary," he kissed her forehead, "it's alright. No harm done."

She looked up at him, clearly embarrassed at what she had done. "It's not alright."

"I'm scared, too." he confessed softly after a long pause.

She moved so she could clearly see him. "What?"

He wiped sweat from his brow and brushed hair away from her face. "To start again."

She swallowed, forcing herself to not betray what her body was crying out. _"Me too! Me too! Me too!_"

Instead she was silent.

"I know you're scared too, Mary. And that's alright."

She inhaled sharply and then moved closer to him, her breasts pressing against his chest as she kissed him fully, trying to convey every possible emotion within it. Fear. Joy. Sadness. Love.

"I do want a baby, Matthew." she admitted as they broke apart. He looked at her and nodded. They understood each other.

"We can wait. I don't mind waiting." Matthew said, pulling the soiled sheet out from under him and tossing it to the ground.

"Just a little longer."

He nodded again, kissing her gently, running a hand along her arm. "A little longer is perfectly fine." he leaned in to her and chuckled against her chest. "Just give me a little bit more of a warning before you do something like that again, darling."

She sighed, biting her lip, then kissed him again. "I won't do it again."

* * *

_A/N: Be sure to let me know what you think! They're slooowwwwlllyyyy getting better. _


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Wow, sorry for the wait! I wrote this one afternoon and completely forgot about it. So, BOOM, here it is. _

**Chapter X**

It had now been two months since that day in late August, and the coldness of winter, which thus far had been harsh and wet, had kept Downton village indoors and close to their fires. The Crawleys all wished for a sparkling white Christmas, which they hoped would lift the mild melancholy that Downton Abbey had retained from the Autumn. The spirits of both the family and the staff had been lifted, however; guided by the announcement of their newest edition, a healthy boy christened after his grandfather a month and a half after the Bransons' visit to Downton.

Along with Robbie's (Robert had been abandoned almost immediately, his parents feeling it felt too grand for such a little person) birth came a phenomenon that absolutely no one had anticipated, not even Matthew. Mary began to blossom before their eyes, sharing timid yet very real smiles and beginning to wear some of the colors she had abandoned before in favor of darker hues. Black turned to emerald green, navy to a rich wine-colored violet, brown to vibrant red. It was with wonderment that they all witnessed this change, and it was as if a heavy blanket had been lifted from the house. Everything seemed brighter, cleaner, new.

There was one event, however, that, for Matthew, overshadowed his wife's marvelous transformation. It came, despite Sybil's comforting words on the subject before, from Lord Grantham.

One evening, after a relaxed family dinner, Lord Grantham and his son-in-law retired to the library; Matthew foregoing his cigar, as usual, for a brandy. Robert lit his, predictably, and sat across from Matthew in a large and comfortable armchair, leaning back and propping his feet on the very ottoman that had begun the spiral of Matthew's recovery years before.

Robert sighed deeply and looked at Matthew with a smile.

"It's wonderful to have a child in the family again." he said thoughtfully.

Matthew nodded in agreement.

"Although it's a pity we won't see them at Downton…"

"They'll visit, surely?" Matthew asked, brow furrowed.

"Of course. Cora's written, but you know how these things go. We have to wait until the baby's old enough to handle the journey."

Matthew took a sip from his drink, making a sound of agreement in his throat.

Unfortunately, not picking up on Matthew's discomfort with the topic, Robert continued:

"And a boy on the first try! Well done, Branson!"

Finishing the last of his brandy, Matthew set the empty glass on the table beside him and shifted his weight in the plush armchair. Robert quickly became aware of his error and ran a hand across his brow tiredly.

"Oh, how tactless of me, Matthew. I'm terribly sorry."

Matthew waved his hand, knowing his father-in-law had never intended to harm him with his statement.

"And how are things...with Mary? She practically glows." Robert said with a smile, eager to cover the awkward pause.

Matthew smiled to himself. "Yes, she's...we're much better than we were before."

Lord Grantham nodded thoughtfully, getting up for another brandy and offering one to Matthew, who politely declined. Returning to his seat, Robert took a steady breath. He wanted to speak candidly.

"And have you spoken...about children?"

Matthew nodded. "A little." he admitted, willing the conversation to come to a close.

"Mary looks almost...like she did before," Robert mused. "is there any chance-"

"No." Matthew interrupted as gently as he could. "There's no chance."

Robert averted his eyes to the hearth. "Ah, I see."

* * *

As they came through Matthew's eyes immediately sought Mary, finding her sitting alone to one side of the drawing room, the lack of guests allowing the family to relax more before socializing. A book lay in her open hand, the other absentmindedly playing with her long necklace. He watched her nimble fingers pass over each bead, watched the necklace dance between her hand as she continued reading until the end of her page. She sighed in exasperation at something in the passage and then placed her book marker back in the pages, closing it and setting it aside before raising her eyes to greet the men.

Matthew schooled his expression, like his wife did so adeptly, so as not to convey any of the unpleasant conversation he had just finished with his father-in-law. He had known, before even going into the marriage, that children were expected. And he had wanted them! Oh, how he had wanted children with Mary! And it was clear from the day that she announced her pregnancy that the family had all released a breath of relief. So, it was possible after all.

It wasn't supposed to end the way it did. But it had, and nothing could reverse that. Matthew hadn't expected the pressure to return so quickly. God, it still felt like yesterday -fresh and acute in his mind. If only he could forget her screams echoing through the grand house that awful night…

He had noted the sigh of disappointment, however well concealed, that Robert had breathed after hearing of the lost baby's sex, and his obvious relief at having at least one other potential heir in the family. Was it not still too soon? Matthew cast his eyes at Mary again and caught her look of concern as she walked to him, the rich blue of her dress falling flatteringly from her frame.

"Darling, what is it?" she asked, slipping her arm through his.

He smiled at her and leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead in the absence of prying eyes. It reassured her. "Just a bit tired."

Mary smiled in relief. "Has Papa worn you out?"

He squeezed her arm in his as they made their way towards the rest of the family, telling her something about having work to catch up on. This did not go unnoticed by ever-observant Mary, who knew it was not in Matthew's character to speak in such vague terms to her. She raised a sly eyebrow and said nothing of it, hoping he would tell her what was really bothering him after they retired.

* * *

Matthew's mind was still troubled that evening before bed, but he was determined to not let Mary know of the conversation that had transpired between him and her father earlier in the evening. So when he turned the doorknob to their bedchamber and walked in, Matthew shook his head slightly, letting go of his worries.

She was already in bed, her knees drawn up to support the spine of the book she was reading. He smiled as he took off his robe and climbed in beside her.

"What is it tonight?"

She glanced at him. "Something rather _silly, _I'm afraid."

His interest was heightened. "Silly? Lady Mary, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." he joked, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

She feigned annoyance, turning over the book so he could see the title.

"Austen?" he was surprised. "I didn't know you enjoyed books of that genre."

Mary closed the book and flopped it on the bedside table. "I don't, but I'm tired, and frankly quite bored. I needed something to distract me."

"So you resorted to romance?" he was teasing her.

She sat up straight and rearranged the covers to her satisfaction. "I wouldn't call it romance. Far from it, in fact. I sometimes find myself wishing I could strangle the protagonists for being so utterly blind."

Matthew chuckled. "Whatever you say, my dear." he moved to put his pillow down, but Mary stopped him.

"I'm not finished with you." she said.

He gaped. "Darling, I was only joking! You know I greatly admire the bulk of your reading material!"

She shook her head. "No, don't be silly, it's not about that." She began fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. "You've been out of sorts since dinner. What did Papa have to say to you?"

Matthew swallowed. "Nothing out of the ordinary. We spoke about Sybil's baby, and...plans for the estate. Normal things."

Mary tugged on his cuff impatiently. "Then why do I have a feeling there's more you haven't told me? Is everything quite alright? Downton's not in danger again, is it?" Sudden worry flashed through her eyes at the thought.

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Good, I really couldn't bear it another time." She dropped his sleeve and moved so she sat more or less across from him, cross-legged with a coverlet wrapped over her body. And she waited, fixing him with a serious stare. "If there's really nothing wrong, we'll go to bed."

Matthew sighed in defeat and sat up himself. "He asked about...our plans for...later."

"You mean about a baby?"

He was surprised at the quick deliverance of the statement. It was candid and direct. He nodded.

"Well, what did he want to know?" she asked, her eyes lower now.

It was Matthew's turn to fidget, his choice being the fringe on one of the blankets. "He asked if you were pregnant." he said after a moment.

Immediately he saw her posture stiffen the slightest bit. "And?"

"I think he was hinting at us to give it another go." Matthew said, wishing his words weren't quite so plain. He had wanted to soften the blow for her, he wanted to protect her from this.

Mary shrugged. "But we've already spoken about that, Matthew." Her gaze travelled back to him. "And...I've thought about it."

He raised his eyebrows as he listened to her. "I would be willing to...you know."

"Get back in the saddle?"

Mary's mouth opened and she leaned forward to smack his arm, stifling a laugh. "I'll pretend I don't know what you mean by that."

"Are you sure?"

Their intimacy in the past month, initiated by their first attempt at lovemaking, had been relatively chaste as Mary was still mortified at what she had done. But this time around, Matthew was the frightened one.

"Only if you are."

He considered for a moment. Mary crawled back to her usual spot next to him and waited his response.

"Yes, we can, if you like." She smiled at that. He was so delightfully caring, always including her own needs and desires along with his, she vowed never to take it for granted. Mary moved closer to him then, kissing his him tenderly and laying a hand lightly on his chest.

Breaking apart, she cupped his cheek in her hand, bringing it up so she could really look into his clear azure eyes. "I'm scared, too." she said, echoing his words from before. "But it'll be alright."

* * *

He watched her sleep that night. Sheepishly, after a particularly passionate kiss following their discussion, Mary had admitted that she felt utterly exhausted. Matthew had laughed easily. And now he held her in his arms. He looked out the window, seeing the clear and star-filled black November sky and the beginnings of frost on their windows. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, happily finding that the bone there was less prominent. Her body was warm and soft and familiar against his, and occasionally she would shift, like always, curving closer to him, her head finding its habitual place over his chest.

He leaned down finally, after sorting his thoughts, placing a long tender kiss on her hair and brushing it out of her eyes before finally closing his own eyes and drifting off into a much less troubled sleep than he had originally anticipated.

* * *

_A/N: So I took some license with Sybil's baby. I think it would have added to the strain on M/M if Sybil's baby had been a boy. And obviously I kept Sybil alive because, well, this story's already a bit dark. So review like always! They always make my day better and really encourage me to keep up with this. I'll admit, I did lose steam for about a week. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

She wasn't sure what made her go to the village hospital that day. She had no reason to go. Perhaps it was the colder, biting air that drifted through the sparse trees she had walked under on her way to the post office that made her relive the memories stored in the little hospital. It was years ago, but sometimes it felt like yesterday, seeing his body carried in on the stretcher and not knowing if he would end the day alive or dead. But as she walked in, almost guiltily (for she had no real business there), she was soon greeted by a bright and cheerful face.

"Mary! What a surprise! What are you doing here?" Isobel asked with a smile. "You're not ill, I hope?"

Mary waved her hand to dismiss the notion and Isobel relaxed the worried lines that had appeared on her forehead. "No, no, I'm not ill at all."

"Did you come to see me, then?"

Mary fumbled uncharacteristically. Maybe on some subconscious level she had come to see her, it was possible. "No, I...I'm sorry, I don't have any real reason, only I was posting some letters and I happened to be walking back through."

Isobel smiled in understanding. "Maybe you'd like to see the patients? You're a patron, after all."

Mary suddenly felt a rush of gratitude towards her mother-in-law for giving her something to do. She nodded.

"I'm sure that would be lovely." she said with a small smile.

Isobel looked pleased with herself and impressed with Mary and went to the small cabinet in the entryway where they stood, taking out a small brown bottle of aspirin for a patient, which had been her original intention until she had seen Mary.

Mary unpinned her hat and set is aside along with her coat. She suddenly felt a jolt of déjà vu at her presence here. The styles had changed and so had the genre of patients, but she was reminded harshly of Matthew's time spent in the room she walked into like all those years ago.

She followed in Isobel's wake as they walked into the large open hospital room. Dr. Clarkson bent over one patient in the far corner of the room while others sat or lay in their little beds, waiting their turn.

"Nothing too exciting, I'm pleased to say." Isobel said as she retied her apron. She led Mary to the first bed, where an older woman lay tiredly. "Mrs. Parker is recovering from a bout of pneumonia from a month ago," Isobel explained in a hushed voice, "but she's doing very well." she added confidently, smiling down at Mrs. Parker. She pulled a chair over for Mary and motioned for her to sit and introduce herself, then stepped away to tend to her other patients.

Mrs. Parker gave Mary a stubborn look. "I've been in this bed for weeks," she said with a sigh.

Mary smiled sympathetically. "I know how frustrating that must be."

"Doctor says I can leave in another week, once my lungs sound clearer," she coughed.

* * *

Mary was able to converse with many of the patients in the warm, peaceful room until Isobel came to her side, gently interrupting Leonard Connely's particularly gruesome tale of an injury caused by hedge clippers that would haunt Mary for months.

"There's someone I'd very much like you to meet." Isobel said with a knowing smile once Mary politely excused herself and stood up. "He's not talkative, but maybe you can help turn him around."

She led her daughter-in-law to a corner of the room, over to the cot Mary had seen Dr. Clarkson bending over when she had first walked in. Keeping a distance so as to not be overheard, Isobel whispered to Mary:

"His parents died in a fire. He hasn't had any visitors to speak of."

Mary moved to walk away. "Isobel, as much as I appreciate -well, it's a child, I don't know if I'm the right-"

"How could you know?" Isobel interrupted. Mary's eyes widened. "Just sit with him, let him know someone's there," she encouraged.

Mary gave her a wary look.

"There was a fire on the farm. He lost his sight."

Mary's heart softened instantly, and she allowed herself to be taken to his bed.

"Luke, there's someone to see you," Isobel said in a gentle tone.

The boy turned his head at the sound of her now familiar voice from his curled up position. Isobel put a guiding arm on Mary, softly pushed her forward and, not seeing a chair, Mary took a seat at the foot of his bed.

There was silence. Mary looked at the boy, smiling at his curly ash-colored hair and pensive expression. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping, but they fluttered occasionally, and Mary knew he was awake.

After a few minutes of absolute silence, with Mary's hands folded up in her lap and the boy not moving, he turned over slightly and reached out a hand, patting the bed as if to see if his visitor really existed.

"Here I am," Mary said, her hand meeting his. He took it and ran both his hands over it carefully, feeling all her fingers and the ring on the fourth one. He felt air for the other and was awarded with it, after which he repeated the process, memorizing her hands. He smiled lightly and held her hands calmly in his own.

"What is it?" Mary asked.

"Dad says people with long fingers should play the piano," he took her fingers on her left hand and touched her nails and knuckles. "Do you play? I do."

Mary shook her head. "Not well."

His hands moved over her left arm, feeling her wrist, then elbow, then shoulder. His eyes almost opened, but he shut them quickly, embarrassed. He was terribly embarrassed, Mary realized, of the state of his eyes.

"What do you look like?"

She frowned. After a pause, taking his small hand (he couldn't have been more than eight or nine), she placed his palm on her cheek. "You see."

His hand fluttered over her face, his small fingers tracing eyebrows and lips until he pulled his hand away.

"I think you must be pretty."

Mary smiled. "Maybe."

She had no idea that someone so small could seem so old and wise, and be so easy to converse with. They continued the game, with Mary passing him various objects to touch and recognize. He what title she had, what blood ran through her veins, or what had happened to her in the past year. All he knew was that she was the woman with the soft, long-fingered hands and the smooth, comforting voice. That was all he needed to know about her, and as Isobel caught sight of them from the other side of the room, Luke's hands roaming over a small mirror from Mary's purse, she knew that in this moment, that's all Mary wanted to be known for, too.

She smiled in satisfaction at her own actions and turned away.

* * *

As Mary gathered her things and left the hospital Isobel watched Luke intently. He was still sitting up in bed in very much the same position he had been when Mary was with him, and Isobel saw him turn his head very slightly and inch towards the other side of the bed, his hands tentatively reaching out until he found the corner of the bedside table.

Fascinated, she saw him flutter his hands over the little table until he found what he was looking for. Smiling almost imperceptibly, he carefully picked up the object and slowly moved back to the middle of the bed.

Curious, Isobel moved forward to his bed and coughed a little to announce herself, sitting down where Mary had been moments ago. He reached for her hands, but frowned slightly when he felt them.

"It's Mrs. Crawley, Luke. I wanted to see how you were."

Luke's frown left his face and he let go of her hand. "Who was she? What is her name?" he asked earnestly.

Isobel smiled maternally despite the fact that the boy couldn't see her. She considered what she was about to say, but finally decided. "Her name is Mary."

Luke smiled at her name. He repeated it softly, enjoying the sound of it, thinking to himself that no other name and sound could have described her so perfectly. "Will she come back?"

"Would you like her to?"

Luke was pensive, then looked up, presumably in the angle he believed Isobel to be. He was a little off. "Yes," he nodded.

After the fire, after they had told him his parents and brother had died, after they had told him there was little chance of him ever seeing again, after no one had come and sat with him, she had come. Where had she come from? he wondered, but really, it didn't matter. She wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before -not like his parents, whose loving words and work-hardened hands had rocked him to sleep for years. No, she was different. Her hands were soft and beautiful and cool against his. Her velvet voice said only what was necessary, yet her words satisfied him completely. As he lay back down and curled back into bed, he took out the little mirror she had let him keep.

Mary had said there were roses on it, but he couldn't feel them. But she had told him they were there, so they must be. He ran his index finger over the little compact and closed his eyes tightly, and in that moment he saw in his mind a murky image of flowers in the garden from last spring, and smiled again.

* * *

As Mary walked back up to the Abbey she was overcome with a wash of contentment and peace. She felt that everything was somehow _right, _and good, and that in her own small way she had contributed to that goodness.

The shy winter sun peeked out from behind her home as she walked up to it and she was glad for her hat as the light tickled her cheeks and eyes. She was struck with a sudden pang of sadness in realizing that unless something extraordinary happened and his vision was restored, Luke would likely never see the surrounding beauty of the earth ever again.

Mary reached the top of the driveway and was about to go inside when her eyes saw something in their peripheral vision and jumped back to it. Matthew was sitting under her tree with what looked like his briefcase leaning against the bench, several papers on his lap.

She held her small clutch in front of her as she walked slowly towards him, tipping her head slightly as he looked up and smiled at her.

"Hello, darling. Where have you been?" he asked in surprise, pleased to see her.

"In the village, at the hospital," she said with a smile, then shivered in the cool December air. He set his papers aside and looked up with concern.

"Oh? Is everything alright?"

She took a seat on his lap and brushed his hair with her fingertips. "Yes, everything is quite alright. I saw your mother," she looked around in disbelief. "It's cold, what on earth are you doing out here?"

He visibly relaxed and ran a hand over her back. "The cold air clears my head, I suppose. I've only just gotten back. I've only been here a moment."

She smiled at him, loving him for his strange ways.

"You look happy." he said thoughtfully, sinking his own fingertips into the soft brown hair at the base of her neck.

She nodded, leaning forward and resting her forehead against his. "I think that maybe...I am."

_A/N: First of all, none of this chapter would have been possible without my wonderful little friend_ **Cls2011 **_for working tirelessly with me to plot this all out, reading and re-reading drafts, and giving invaluable advice! And also without _**MrsElizabethDarcy** _for her words of encouragement. This is moving in a little bit of a new and kind of unexpected direction, but I promise everything will knit its way together and I hope you like what I'm trying out! Also, thanks to all of YOU who were so patient and kind when I was battling an epic case of writer's block. Yay! Review please and let me know what you think! _


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII**

It was a week to Christmas, and both the Abbey and the village were decorating and preparing for it. The tree had been brought in a week before, and it had taken a full day to put it up and hang ornaments on its prickly branches. The result, after being thoroughly looked over and approved by Carson, was a grand tree covered with glass balls and paper decorations, strung with bows and tinsel and adorned with candles. The fresh smell of pine wafted through the whole house and filled it with the excitement and joy of the season.

As children, Mary and Matthew had spent their Christmases quite differently. Mary had grown up with trees reaching to impossible heights, evergreen wound around stairway railings and ornate holly wreaths on doors. Matthew's Christmases had been simple and intimate: a small tree which he usually cut down with his father, many handmade ornaments hung up on it, strings of cranberries and Christmas crackers. And now they had both. Crawley house was decorated much like it had been for Matthew growing up, while the grand traditions were still carried out at the big house.

He was pleased to see his wife smile more and more as the season wore on. She was taking frequent trips into the village and had told him about the little sightless boy in the hospital. Mary seemed to derive so much pleasure from his company that Matthew was content to sit back and watch the effects of it. She smiled, laughed genuinely, joked, and it was with a sense of pride and admiration that Matthew realized the pain and suffering had been almost fully lifted from her shoulders. He knew it would never be fully gone -they would recall the ache their whole lives- but to see that they had appeared to move on, however painful it was to do so, filled him with satisfaction.

* * *

The sun shone brightly through the curtains to their bedroom, bright because it beamed off of the white crystalline snow that blanketed the lawn. Squinting in annoyance and turning over, Mary sighed tiredly and moved closer to Matthew, her feet brushing against his. He jumped and yelped quietly, his eyes flashing open.

"Good God, Mary! Your feet are like ice!"

Mary laughed in a husky voice and cuddled closer to him, her head resting over his shoulder as his arm wrapped around her. She snuck one foot up to his ankle and he kicked it away, causing her to chuckle again.

"Good morning," Mary whispered, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye. She frowned, "Aren't you going to kiss me?"

He groaned, "Not after that rude awakening,"

She leaned up and kissed him herself, tangling her ice-cold feet in his and leaning back, smiling, "I fear I have angered Mr. Crawley,"

He chuckled then and kissed her back, brushing hair off her face. "And if you don't take your feet off me, I fear I will have to anger _Mrs. Crawley._"

Mary pulled her feet away and curled her knees up into her, turning so her arms crossed over his chest and her head rested on them. "Darling?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you come with me to the hospital today?" Mary asked with a serious look in her eyes.

Matthew ran his hand along her shoulder blades. "To meet the boy you keep talking about?"

Mary nodded, leaning down to kiss his chest. "I'd like you to meet him."

Matthew nodded. "Of course, I'd love to meet him."

* * *

So that afternoon, after coats had been buttoned and scarfs donned the couple set off towards the village. The snow had fallen thickly and had hardened overnight, and it had taken the combined efforts all of the male servants just to shovel off the front of the driveway. There was no way of taking the car down, because the chauffeur had said the engine had frozen over, and Matthew was ready to give up on the mission. Mary, however, remained resolute. She suggested they try and make their way down on foot, a notion Matthew strongly opposed. But she remained unmoved, and pulled his hand with a merry laugh, arguing that her feet were cold enough already, and that a little snow in her shoe would not deter her in the least.

* * *

It was not "a little" snow. By the time they reached the village, Mary's feet were positively frozen. Even with Matthew holding her waist tightly so she wouldn't fall, she nearly had, twice, and they had slipped three times together. But she didn't complain, and when they finally walked into the little hospital she disregarded Isobel's horrified expression and simply took off her warm things and hung them up as usual. His mother gave him a look of disbelief, shocked that he would support his wife walking in the dead of winter through inches of snow just to visit the hospital. As Mary went through to the patient room he turned and explained:

"She insisted we come before Christmas," he said, watching her greet several patients she seemed familiar with through the doorway.

Isobel smiled, secretly ecstatic that her plan was proving a success. "Come and see her with him, Matthew," she said, taking his arm and leading him in to follow Mary.

Matthew watched as she went to the young boy's bed. He was laying down, facing the wall and away from her, but he sat up slightly as he felt her weight upon the bed. Reaching out, he found her offered hands and felt them eagerly, before looking up with a wide smile.

"Mary!" he said happily.

Since the first day she had seen him, he had taken up the game of knowing people by their hands. He could now recognize people by their hands alone, and it boosted his spirits when he met someone new and could memorize theirs as well.

Luke frowned, letting her hands go and reaching out. "You said you were bringing someone," he said with a hint of disappointment.

"I did." Mary looked up and over at Matthew, who was lingering a bit behind, watching her interaction with the boy. She waved for him.

"Here he is," Mary said, and watched as Luke reached out and Matthew offered his hands for him to discover.

Matthew watched Luke take his hands and trace over them. Once satisfied, Luke put them down and searched for Mary's, holding her left hand lightly in his.

"This is my husband, Matthew." Mary explained.

Luke looked in the direction he believed Matthew to be in. "I'm Luke."

Matthew nodded. "I've heard a lot about you."

Suddenly, Mary winced as feeling started to come back to her toes. Matthew looked over in concern and Luke frowned, his grip on her fingers tightening.

"I think I need to go warm myself up a bit," Mary said with a guilty look to Matthew, who looked at her in a mixture of worry and amusement.

"Go on, darling, I'll be here."

Mary looked back to Luke. "I'll only be gone a moment," she promised, before letting his hand go, rising from the bed, and going in search of a warm fire to sit by and a cup of hot tea.

Luke patted over the bed after Mary had gone and found Matthew's hand, holding it gently. Matthew looked at the burns on his arms and one on his neck and felt a surge of pity for the young boy, who would never again see his family, and who would have to spend years adjusting to his new condition.

"You're married to her," Luke confirmed.

Matthew nodded, then remembered the boy couldn't see him. "Yes, that's right."

"She read a book to me yesterday," Luke said, letting his hand go and inching over on the bed, feeling until he found the little table and the book on it. He picked it up and moved back to the bed. "Will you read it?"

Matthew turned the book over so he could see its spine and smiled nostalgically at the title, remembering it from his own youth. He opened the book to the marked page and made himself more comfortable on the bed, then began to read aloud.

After two chapters, however, Luke politely asked him to stop, and Matthew handed the novel back into the boys hands for him to put away himself. Luke seemed very proud of the fact that he could now move around and do things for himself, despite his blindness.

"Is it snowing?" Luke asked suddenly, turning his head back.

Matthew looked out the window and saw that, sure enough, it was snowing. He remembered the state of his wife's feet and realized they would have to procure a car for the ride home. "It is!" he said with a tone of surprise.

Luke smiled, "Good. Mama says that it can't be a real Christmas without snow…"

Matthew was pensive at the boy's words. He remembered Mary telling him that Luke was orphaned, and felt pain for the child. Yet his tone suggested that he was happy, and not in the least bit sad, which confused Matthew.

"Dad made me a sled," Luke continued. "I saw it in the barn. I'm glad there's snow."

Matthew smiled. "Your father made it for you?"

Luke nodded proudly. "He makes lots of things, and sometimes I help him! We made a new chair for Mama, but I think she knew about that, too."

* * *

After returning to Downton with minimal difficulty, Mary went up immediately to change, even if it was a little early. That night she wore blue, a color she wore relatively rarely. It was a deep, dark blue, with silver beading, and the combination set off her skin so that she appeared to glow. Finishing the task soon after the dressing gong rang, Mary went downstairs and into the drawing room to wait until dinner was announced. She brought her book with her, but was pleased to discover that Matthew was already down as well and sitting in his favorite armchair, one leg crossed over the other, and reading his own chosen book.

He looked up and smiled at her appreciatively. "You look wonderful."

She smoothed out her dress and returned the smile. "It's new."

"I like you in blue," he said in a low voice, running his eyes over her from head to toe.

She coughed to clear her throat, touched at the compliment, and moved closer to him.

Soon the rest of the family came down, dressed, and they sat down to await dinner. The Dowager Countess was announced along with Isobel, as they had been invited that particular evening, and Isobel struck up a conversation with Edith and Cora. Mary and Matthew remained selfishly in their own corner, having eyes and ears only for each other.

Violet watched them, and it was with an immense sense of fulfillment and pride that she saw Mary smile, blush, laugh, and keep her hand on Matthew's arm. She recalled her own words, spoken harshly to Mary months ago when she had been frail and broken: _You were always stubborn, my dear, but you must allow someone to hold your hand in this. _And now as she looked at her granddaughter, who rose up slightly on her feet to lean up and kiss her husband secretly while she thought no one was looking, Violet realized that she had, at last, allowed someone to.

* * *

Near the fire, Mary turned to Matthew and bit her lip slightly, wondering at how to phrase her question. He looked at her expectantly.

"Matthew, I was thinking…" she sighed before continuing, "I was thinking of asking Dr. Clarkson if Luke could come to Downton for Christmas."

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Really? Do you think that's wise?"

Mary shook her head. "I don't think Clarkson will object, we're perfectly able to care for him for one night."

"And you don't think it will be uncomfortable for him?" Matthew asked delicately.

"For Luke?"

"Don't you think it might be a bit...intimidating?"

"I don't see how it would be!" Mary said with surprise.

"I do." Matthew reminded her. And she remembered, and reasoned with the fact that for Matthew it had been a tough transition to come to Downton. She took it all for granted, sometimes.

"Of course, I hadn't realized..." Mary admitted. "But I really think he should be somewhere other than the hospital for Christmas."

"I agree," Matthew conceded firmly. "Mary, does he know...who you are?"

Mary tilted her head.

"He calls you 'Mary'." Matthew pointed out.

"Oh, no, he doesn't…" Mary said softly. Luke had no idea of the class distinctions that separated him from Mary, knowing only that her voice was more refined than his. She had never thought of explaining anything to him, not finding that it was in any way necessary. But to bring him here, to surround him with all this...Mary looked through the doorway and saw the immense tree standing tall and shining brightly. It would be overwhelming. But then she remembered something else. Turning to her husband, she smiled again.

"He won't see it, Matthew. He'll know it's different, but it won't be so very hard for him if he can't see around him!"

Matthew chuckled lightly. "I'd forgotten. The way he carries on, you quite forget the fact that he can't see."

Mary nodded. "Sometimes I think he may see more than those of us with eyes can."

Matthew ran a hand along her arm. "We'll speak to Clarkson tomorrow," he promised.

* * *

_A/N: First of all, Happy Easter to all of you! I'm in Paris right now, and it's cold but beautiful! Super big thank you's to both **Cls2011 **and **MrsElizabethDarcy **for their unending encouragement and help on this chapter! You are fabulous! What do you all think of Luke so far? _


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve Matthew drove into the village with his wife to bring Luke from the hospital up to Downton. The little hospital, like the Abbey, was decorated for Christmas. Cards from relatives adorned bedside tables and poinsettias spread a delightful red and green around the perimeter of the room.

Dr. Clarkson had given his permission with relative ease, knowing that the young boy would rejuvenate even further in being surrounded with love on such a wonderful holiday. He did caution, however, that Luke not be left alone for a prolonged amount of time, as the boy was nowhere near adjusting fully to his condition. Isobel readily offered to remain at Downton the night of Christmas Eve, which reassured Clarkson considerably. So, when Matthew and Mary Crawley came into the hospital to pick Luke up the boy was fully readied by Isobel, wearing a warm coat and new, clean clothes that she had procured for him. He would never be up to Downton Abbey's level of dress, but with what he wore now, a similar ensemble for Christmas Day in his small valise, and his nicest clothing for the evening of Christmas Eve, no one would bat an eye.

Matthew smiled at the boy, who had evidently been sharpened up -his dark blonde hair cut and combed and his clothing obviously crisp and new. Luke sat on his bed quietly, but lifted his head slightly at the familiar click of a woman's shoes on the floor.

He smiled as he smelled the flower-smell of Mary and heard the swish of her skirt as she sat beside him, putting her hand in his.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Luke nodded. He couldn't wait to get away from the hospital, surrounded by the coughing and smell of sickness that seemed to accompany it. When Mary had first asked him if he'd like to come to her home and be with her family for Christmas he had had only one question: would there be any other children there for him to play with? He hadn't met any children since the fire, save the sick ones, whose moans he'd heard from the corner. He tried to hide his disappointment when she told him there wouldn't be any children there, and noted a strange emotion hidden behind her words, one he couldn't quite place.

Luke stood up from the bed, feeling Mary do the same next to him.

"Is Matthew here too?" he asked.

"I'm just at your right," he heard Matthew say, and moved towards the direction of his voice, finding him easily. He had been practicing walking for the past two weeks, and was getting more accomplished at it by the day.

Mary handed Matthew the boy's small suitcase and then moved towards them, resting her hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Can you do it by yourself?" Mary asked in a low voice, and Luke nodded proudly, beginning to step slowly forward as he'd been taught, although he was secretly glad of her hand to steady him or gently steer him away from an unexpected obstacle.

By the time they made it to the car and Luke was inside Mary looked up and shared a silent look of pride with her husband, who held the door open for her as she got in to sit beside Luke. He smiled at her in understanding, closed the door behind her, and got into the driver's seat on the other side.

Matthew started the motor and began to drive off, listening to Luke chattering about how excited he was for Christmas. He had driven five minutes before he heard Mary's frantic cry to stop the car from the backseat. Looking in the mirror as he pulled over the car to the slushy side of the road, he saw Mary flash a look of panic at him, her eyes wide.

"What is it?" he said, turning around to look at his wife and the little boy behind him.

"It makes me feel sick," Luke said in a small voice, his face pale and his knuckles white as he held onto the car's upholstery.

Mary exchanged a look of helplessness with Matthew, neither of them quite knowing what to do.

Finally, Matthew took a deep breath and looked at Luke.

"Hold on to Mary, alright? She'll tell you when a turn comes,"

Mary shot him a look of uncertainty but Luke immediately took up the offer, moving closer towards where he knew Mary sat and feeling her arm come around him, although he didn't sense the awkwardness with which she did it.

Thankfully, the rest of the ride to the Abbey was smooth. Mary gently warned him when a curve was coming and Matthew drove slowly, and by the time he finally stopped the car Luke was in a much better mood, although slightly shaken.

"Are we here, at your house?" Luke asked as Matthew took his bag and Mary his hand and they began to lead him to the front door.

"Yes," Mary said, hoping her nerves were not translated in her voice.

There had been mixed reactions to Luke coming to join the family for Christmas. Robert supported the idea, along with Edith, and, eventually Carson. Cora, however, was not so keen on it, and, by extension, neither was Ms. O'Brien. So there was a sense of awkwardness as Mary and Matthew led him in, taking off their coats and hats and helping Luke with his, as they were greeted by the rest of the house.

Luke had been told by Mary, and by Isobel, that the place he would be celebrating Christmas in would be much different than his home or the hospital. So when he heard voices echo, and realized the home was very large, it did not surprise him. Nor did it surprise him when he heard Mary be called a "Lady", for she was one. Introductions where made, and they seemed easy enough, Luke only hoped he would be able to remember everyone.

Luke missed the affectionate look from Lord Grantham as he took his hand and memorized it, but heard the slight coldness in his wife's voice as she greeted him. He decided he liked Anna when she led them upstairs and to the room he would spend the night in. Her voice reminded him of home, and her hand was slightly worn from work, which reminded him of home as well.

* * *

Dinner went as smoothly as was to be expected. The Dowager Countess had had a fright when she saw the little boy holding Isobel's hand as they went in to dine, and after his presence was explained to her by Robert, she pronounced everything as "Highly irregular!". Nevertheless, she vowed to like him for Mary's benefit, and found him cheery and quite enjoyable as the night went on. He didn't speak much at the table, no doubt feeling uncomfortable at the various bits of conversation going around it. Isobel, however, kept an easy dialogue going with him as she helped him eat. He didn't need very much help at all, Isobel was proud to notice, yet she caught Cora giving him a sharp look when a stray vegetable fell to the tablecloth.

Matthew leaned over to chime in occasionally. At one point midway through the dinner he bent his head toward Luke and whispered, "It's nearly over now, I know it can get a bit boring."

The boy smiled secretly at his comment and nodded his understanding, his head swimming with all the different voices talking and blending into each other.

* * *

It was evident to Mary that Luke was much more at ease after dinner ended. He sat by Edith at the piano and listened to her play something soft and peaceful, until she stopped and together they tried to plunk out simple Christmas tunes on the smooth black and white keys. Edith laughed when they made a mistake and Luke laughed with her, his face lit up with joy.

The room was filled with merry conversation, and Mary's eyes were so fixed on her sister and Luke that she almost didn't notice when her mother took a seat beside her on the sofa. Mary turned to her, smiling, and nodded her head over to Edith at the piano.

"He looks happy, doesn't he?"

Cora nodded, although she pursed her lips slightly.

Mary's eyebrows came together in confusion, "Mama, what is it?"

Cora looked to Luke and then back at her eldest daughter. "I didn't want to say anything, not earlier but-"

Mary raised her eyebrows for her mother to continue.

"I hope you're not getting too attached to him, Mary. You know nothing can come of it."

Her daughter opened her eyes wider, incredulous.

Cora bit her lip before continuing, "You know it would be impossible to adopt him. I don't want this to come between you and Matthew having a child of your own, that's all."

Mary's mouth had fallen open in shock at what she was hearing. She closed it as soon as she noticed, not wanting to draw any attention to the sofa she was sitting on.

"Mama, where is your heart?" she asked in a hissing whisper.

Her mother put a hand on her daughter's knee, but Mary brushed it away swiftly. "I'm only thinking of you, my dear."

"Mama, do you hear yourself? Don't think of me, think of _him_!" she felt her throat constrict in the formation of a cry that she would not allow to escape her, "He has _nothing _and we have _everything. _Where is your spirit of Christmas?"

Cora swallowed and sat up a bit straighter, "I only want to caution you, Mary. You cannot have him."

Despite everything, Mary let out an almost silent sob of disbelief that went unnoticed by all. Looking up at her mother, Mary began to form a retort when she was interrupted by Edith.

"Come and sing, Mary!" she called, waving toward the piano where Luke was still playing scales.

Mary coughed slightly and recovered, putting forth a smile, "Oh no, I haven't in ages!"

"Oh, be a sport, Mary! You always used to sing on Christmas Eve when you were a little girl!" her father said jovially, taking a sip of his drink.

Matthew smiled brightly at her, seconding the vote.

Sitting up straighter and refusing to give her mother a second look, Mary stood up with a generous smile and walked to the piano, having lost the battle. Looking to Matthew with a hint of embarrassment she raised an eyebrow.

"Well, what shall I sing?" she fiddled with the beads at her necklace and took a small sip of champagne from Edith's glass on a nearby table. As she came back to the side of the grand piano she felt a tug at her dress and looked down to Luke. He hummed a lilting little tune and she smiled, recognizing it.

"Oh, very well, but mind I'm not very good," she said quietly, clearing her throat while Edith searched for the music.

"Nonsense!" Matthew protested with a laugh from his spot next to Violet.

Mary smiled again and rested one hand on the piano, nodding for Edith to begin to play. As the first sounds resonated from the instrument and filled the room up to the high ceiling the whole house seemed to go quite still. Even Carson put down his tray and took a step back to listen to her, and as she sung the first words and they melted beautifully with the piano he closed his eyes and listened, her voice as clear and pure as the first day she'd sung on Christmas Eve.

_What child is this who, laid to rest_

_On Mary's lap is sleeping?_

Mary's inhale before the next line was sharper than she had intended. Matthew put down his drink, sensing that the particular song might be too much for her, but she sung the next line steadily and shook her head imperceptibly at his concern.

_Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet,_

_While shepherds watch are keeping? _

Again, Mary bit the inside of her cheek a little at the words, but showed no outward signs of distress. She suddenly wished she had never come up in front of them, but then remembered that Luke had requested this song, and that he couldn't have possibly known what memories the lyrics might summon up.

She finished the song without trouble and smiled gratefully when it was over. There was a scattering of hearty applause, particularly from Luke, who Edith smiled at from her spot. A shoot of understanding passed through Edith's eyes to Mary's, as if she knew what the song had meant as well.

"How about something a bit more jolly?" Edith offered, and Mary began to move away from the piano. A small hand tugged her back.

"Sing 'Deck the Halls'!" he begged, and Mary squeezed his hand in agreement.

"Alright, then. Only if you'll sing too,"

Luke nodded, and Edith struck up the tune on the piano. Mary's voice rang out the first few lines before everyone joined in, and this time a real smile crossed Mary's face at seeing her happy family around her. She didn't look at her mother.

After a few more songs Mary managed to escape the piano, even as Luke protested she stay. Instead, Mary led him over to her grandmother, who at first looked at Mary in shock and then at the little boy, who brought his feet up slightly on the sofa, breaking a thousand rules. Mary quickly moved to tell him of his small mistake but her grandmother swatted her hand away.

"The amount of times I told you to sit properly when you were a girl cannot be counted,"

Mary laughed openly and allowed Granny to swish her away with her hand, turning herself back to the boy who looked up at the sound of Violet's voice and was soon engaged in an animated conversation with her.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked her when she went to him, taking a seat and sitting a bit too close than was considered socially acceptable. She took his hand and wove her fingers into his, inhaling deeply and letting the breath out.

"Yes, I'm fine," she reassured him.

He looked at her, noticing that she avoided his glance, "Mary?"

"Something Mama said earlier, about us adopting Luke," Mary said, knowing that with him looking at her like that she wouldn't be able to keep anything from him.

"We're adopting Luke?" Matthew's eyebrows shot up.

Mary shook her head and finally turned to look at him, "No, no, she just doesn't see him the same way we do. I think she sees him as a barrier to us having a child of our own...As an American I had thought she would be more open-minded,"

Matthew nodded in understanding, "What did you say?"

"I'm afraid I rather gutted her out," Mary said softly.

Matthew chuckled in amusement and drew Mary closer, placing a kiss at her temple and smiling at her. "It's Christmas, darling, do you think you can forgive her?"

Mary nodded, "Of course, I won't dwell on it, there's rather no need to,"

He kissed her again on the cheek and she smiled lovingly at it. She openly laughed when she saw her grandmother's face, looking at Luke in astonishment as he wove some intricate tale, using his hands and facial expressions to convey his message.

Matthew followed her gaze and laughed as well, "He looks happy, don't you think?"

"What about Granny?" Mary laughed, "He does, doesn't he? Do you think we did well bringing him here?"

Matthew nodded, "He won't forget this Christmas,"

Mary shook her head, "No, nor I."

* * *

Isobel watched from her spot next to Cora as Mary stood up, followed by Matthew, who kept a hand at her back, and went to the Dowager Countess to relieve her of Luke. The boy was tired out from the day, and his body was soft and warm as Matthew picked him up from the settee and told him it was time for bed.

Luke protested feebly, but with a word from Mary about Father Christmas, he soon stopped and rested his head on Matthew's shoulder as the three of them walked upstairs, Isobel excusing herself and following in their stead.

"Do you really think he'll come?" Luke asked as Matthew tucked him into bed (the bed being much too big for him, really).

"Who?"

"Father Christmas!" Luke exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious question in the world.

Mary chuckled tiredly, "I don't know,"

Luke sat bolt upright, "What?"

Matthew eased him back down, "I'm sure he'll come, Luke, but only if you sleep,"

Luke turned over quickly, burying himself in the blankets and curling up, "Alright, I'm asleep!"

The couple laughed quietly and began to leave the room when Luke sat up again, his arms outstretched, "You forgot!"

Matthew and Mary exchanged a look, then Matthew nudged her gently forward and watched as she leaned into the bed, her long arms coming timidly around Luke in a goodnight hug. He smiled and let her go, whispering "goodnight" and falling back into the covers, which Mary tucked up again as she moved to leave.

Matthew looked at her lovingly as she walked in front of him, putting a hand to her mouth with a yawn as she realized that she was also quite worn out.

* * *

_A/N: For some reason, this took absolutely forever to write, and if it weren't for Cls2011 and her constant encouragement, I would probably still be wringing my hands over it.I decided to break Christmas Eve and Christmas Day into two chapters because otherwise it would be much too long... If you have a minute, let me know what you think! _


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Merry Christmas! _

**Chapter XIV**

Father Christmas _did _come. After a breakfast that Luke sat through agitatedly, they all moved into the morning room while Mary took Luke's excited hand and led him to the towering Christmas tree, kneeling beside him on the floor and moving his presents toward him until he felt one of the small boxes and smiled in delight, reaching for Mary's hand and tugging it about, telling her how happy he was that Father Christmas had remembered him even though he wasn't at the hospital.

Mary smiled in contentment and helped him carry back the three packages to the morning room to join the rest of the family, finding him a spot on the floor and taking a seat beside him as he carefully peeled back the white and gold paper. She was reminded of herself as a young girl Luke's age, sitting on the soft carpet with her skinny legs tucked under her fluffy dress, her fingers moving along the seam of the paper, not wanting to tear such a beautiful design as she slowly revealed her present.

Luke looked up triumphantly as he peeled the last bit of paper off and opened the lid of the small box, reaching inside and feeling under the tissue paper until his fingers met another small box with something coming off the side of it. He held it up to Mary, confusion evident on his face.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, turning it over.

Mary guided his fingers to the little metal crank and he turned it hesitantly, his eyebrows slightly knit together. His smile widened to a grin when he heard the familiar Christmas tune of 'O Holy Night' play from the little box.

"Did you show him how it works yet?" Matthew's voice said, and Luke felt him sit down beside them.

Mary must have shook her head because Matthew asked to see the toy and then Luke heard the sound of the little box being popped open.

Matthew put the music box in the palm of his hand and took Luke's fingers, letting them feel the mechanics of the toy.

"It's a little metal tube, and do you feel the little bumps covering it?"

Luke nodded, his face concentrated.

"When the tube is turned, the little dots play on a tiny metal piano, and that's how the sound comes out of it," Matthew explained, earning a proud look from Mary and his mother, who was watching from her place at the sofa while everyone milled about exchanging gifts.

Luke turned the crank again and lightly kept the pad of his index finger on the clockwork inside the box, feeling how the dots moved under his fingertip at random intervals and the subsequent soft hum of the music as they hit the tiny metal piano keys.

"Do you like it?" Mary asked, taking the wrapping paper and setting it aside next to them.

Luke nodded enthusiastically and continued to play with it. "What did Father Christmas bring you?" he asked, and Matthew looked quickly to Mary, who stifled a smile.

"I think there's something from him on the table there, Matthew, in green paper,"

Matthew nodded with a secret smile and stood up to go fetch the gift, taking off the white ribbon as he walked back over to them and hearing Edith's "Oh, thank you, Matthew!" as she opened the book he had given her.

Taking a seat on the carpet once more, something that reminded him of his own childhood Christmases, he tore a little less gracefully at the shiny green paper and lifted the lid off the thin rectangular box inside.

"I've been needing another," Matthew said in appreciation as he lifted the elegant navy pen out of the box and turned it over in his fingers. He leaned over and gave Mary a quick kiss on the cheek and she nodded, glad that he was pleased with such a simple gift.

"What is it?" Luke asked impatiently, and Matthew handed his gift to the boy, who turned it over as well and looked up in such disappointment that Mary almost laughed out loud. "A _pen_?"

"The one I have is on its way out, and it's always good to have a spare,"

Luke cocked his head in amusement, but handed the pen back to Matthew, who placed it back in the box. Adults were such bores sometimes.

* * *

Luke opened his other gifts, which proved to be equally thrilling. He was delighted with a book none of them had read before (but which Mary had heard was quite good), supposedly about a boy that never grew up, which Mary promised to read to him. But the last gift was the best of all: a stuffed rabbit from Mary and Matthew. It had been knitted out of the softest sand-colored yarn that had a fuzzy, hazy look about it. Luke could feel the little black beads of its eyes and the velvet of the inside of its ears. He immediately hugged it to him and thanked them profusely, promptly naming it 'Pan' after the character in his new book and showing him off to Isobel, who had come to see what other presents he had received.

"Where is Anna?" Matthew asked, more to himself than to anyone else, and Mary looked at him curiously.

"With the servants, I would imagine. Why?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I needed her help with something, but it doesn't matter," Matthew said, shaking his head and putting a hand on her arm.

"Where's your present, Mary?" Luke asked from where he now sat next to Violet, who was trying to open Robert's present while Luke insisted on showing her his new toys.

Mary heard Matthew breathe a sigh of relief and looked up to see Anna come in as if on cue, a small basket in her hands, tied up in a soft lavender tulle, sending an apologetic look to Matthew as she dipped a curtsy. "I'm sorry, Mr. Crawley, we lost track of time,"

"That's quite alright, Anna," Matthew said, taking the basket out of her hands and moving toward Mary, who had now taken a seat on the sofa, and placing the basket gingerly in her lap. She looked at him, a smile playing across the corners of her lips. "Matthew, what is this?"

He gestured to her lap, and she worked at the gathered tie at the top of the basket, and as the tulle fell away she gasped and then fixed him with a smile, laughing in amusement.

Inside the small basket, which was lined with a soft small blue blanket, a tiny kitten was curled up. He slept, oblivious to the world, with his head so tucked into his body that it was almost indiscernible from the rest of him. Mary put her fingers on his soft grey and brown fur, inching one between his little front legs so that he uncurled a bit and stretched, his face finally visible.

"Oh, how darling!" Edith exclaimed, coming over and brushing a thumb over the kitten's ears, which flicked in response as he slept.

"A cat!? _In the house_?" Violet cried indignantly across from them.

"Oh, Granny, have you seen him?" Edith looked over her shoulder, then back to Matthew, "Is it a 'him'?"

"The world may be moving forward, dear, but cats should remain firmly in the kitchens!" Granny responded sharply.

Matthew daringly looked to Violet and then back at Mary, who was stroking the kitten's small nose with her little finger. Their eyes met, and he smiled wickedly, "You never know when there might be a mouse!"

Robert guffawed and Luke laughed and Violet looked at then with surprise, then watched as Luke skillfully got down from the settee and maneuvered his way across the carpet, finally finding Edith who placed his left hand gently in the basket so he could feel the baby animal.

"Mama, do you remember the time Sybil and I found a kitten in the stables?" Mary asked after laughing at Matthew's joke, looking over her shoulder to where her mother stood, having just opened Mary's present to her (a kit to press flowers with).

Cora smiled in remembrance, "And I told you to 'put it back lest Granny see it',"

"I wonder what happened to the little thing," Robert mused, recalling the image of his two daughters -Mary's cheeks rosy and Sybil's hair slightly disheveled-coming into his study with the squirming kitten in Mary's arms.

His eldest daughter re-occupied herself with her new charge, and smiled in surprise when its eyes opened and revealed a soft grey-blue. "I'm sure he won't be too much trouble, Granny,"

"Yes, well little things grow up to be big things quicker than you'd think! You'll know when you have a child of your own!"

Mary swallowed but didn't miss a beat, nodding and continuing to stroke over the kitten's nose. "I'm sure you're right,"

Violet stood up and came towards the gathering of the animal's admirers, realizing her small error almost the moment it came out of her mouth, and Edith moved away with Luke so she could take a seat next to Mary. Looking down distastefully at the cat, Violet sighed in concession and moved her long fingers, the fingers Mary had inherited, over the curve of its back.

"Yes, it's very sweet, I'll give you that, you must have found the good one, Matthew,"

Matthew nodded, "He's slept constantly for the past three days,"

"Three days! Wherever did you hide him?" Mary asked incredulously as the kitten yawned.

"With Anna, of course!"

Mary knitted her eyebrows together in mock disbelief. "Traitor,"

* * *

Too soon it was time to take Luke back to the hospital, although Mary personally thought that after how well he had done without being in it, there was no use sending him back to lie in a bed amongst the sick. Luke bore the situation well, thanking them all sincerely for having him over for Christmas and reminding Violet that she had promised to visit him at the hospital.

"I said nothing of the kind!" Violet protested so everyone could hear, but squeezed the boy's hand and gave him a sly smile just the same.

Even Cora was genial and slightly put out when Luke left in the late afternoon. After her spat with Mary she had come to terms with the fact that her words had been too harsh, although she still felt frustrated that her daughter and son-in-law weren't quite moving on as everyone had hoped they would. She bent down and kissed the boy's cheek and watched as Mary tightened his coat and walked him out to the car as he climbed in with Isobel and prepared to be driven back, knowing in that moment that Mary would one day be a gentle and caring mother. She had watched her in the past weeks and days, how she had put her own needs aside in favor of another's, how she had patiently led the blind boy from room to room, letting him feel his own way and helping him only if he needed it. Cora had watched Matthew as well, noticing how his gaze softened when he saw Mary with Luke, as if imagining what their future could hold. She had spoken with her husband late at night, his arm around her and her cheek resting on his chest, and he had run a hand along her shoulders, telling her to give them time, that everything would happen as it was meant to happen, and that they had to be patient.

"I'm so glad you came, Luke," Cora said before letting him go, and Mary's eyes had raised to meet her mother's, softening in thanks and forgiveness.

It was Christmas Day, and there was no use dwelling on words spoken too quickly that had wounded. It was better to forgive.

* * *

It had been a wonderful, happy Christmas Day, and Mary was proud of herself for organizing Luke's visit. She knew he had enjoyed himself, and that he had been much better off at the Abbey with them than he would have been at the little hospital. Overcome with a feeling of warmth and accomplishment, Mary mounted the stairs to retire after the long day and trailed her fingers along the bannister, smiling as she felt Matthew begin to walk up beside her. Mary couldn't help but feel as if something were missing, Luke's presence was one she greatly enjoyed, and without him near her she felt strange, different. She felt Matthew's hand on the small of her back and gladly took the little basket from him where her present still slept. He had been awake for a time during the excitement of opening presents, but fallen asleep again shortly after, curling up into himself and stretching occasionally.

"Have you thought of a name for him?" Matthew asked quietly as they reached the landing. Now that they were away from view, he slipped his hand from her back to the curve of her waist and felt her slight shiver under his hand.

"Not yet," she said in a whisper, suddenly very aware of the fact that his hand was at her waist, that his fingers flexed lightly against it, and that her breath was caught in her throat. They reached their bedroom door and, without thinking, Mary pulled him into her, capturing his mouth with hers and moving her free hand along the skin of his neck hesitantly, as it had been for the past months.

She gasped into his mouth as her back came into contact with the door and his hand flexed again at her hip. He made a desperate noise in the back of his throat and his lips pressed more insistently against hers when they were suddenly interrupted by the kitten's little voice meowing in distress as its basket crunched between the two bodies.

Matthew jumped back slightly as if they'd been caught, looking right and left before realizing it was the little creature Mary was now cooing to that had been their witness. He laughed shakily and Mary's eyes met his again, her cheeks lightly flushed from their sudden kiss and her chest rising more quickly than moments before.

"I'll only be a moment," she said in a low voice, finding the doorknob behind her and turning it, falling back slightly into her room even as he leaned forward for her, but she turned quickly and moved into the room, looking back and nodding to him, "I'll only be a moment,"

* * *

_A/N: A little bit of a longer chapter this time, because I need to be done with Christmas, it is way too difficult to write with such nice weather. Thanks to my little helpers, as usual (you know who you are) for encouraging me and being patient as I doubt myself. What do you all think? _


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Sorry for the longer wait than usual._

**Chapter XV**

Matthew had fumbled in his dressing room, almost snapping at Molesley as he scrambled into his pajamas and robe and went into the bedroom, back to Mary. As he closed the door behind him and turned around, he saw her there, in the middle of the room, waiting for him. She stared at him with purpose under dark lashes, and Matthew couldn't help but inhale sharply at her beauty. Oh, how he loved her! And it wasn't clear, then, when they somehow reached each other and hands found familiar places and lips crashed together, who had begun it.

"Oh, Mary," he whispered against her lips, his hand finding the small of her back and pulling her closer to him, gathering her up as close as he could have her, as another hand stroked along the length of her body, finding her waist. He felt her lips smile against his and could almost taste the desire and adrenaline running between them, crackling like sparks at each new touch. She smiled, so he kissed her, harder this time, deeper, and it was as if a thousand fireworks exploded around them.

It was joyous, wonderful, and they laughed nervously as they stumbled and tripped back to the bed, still tangled together, fingers working furiously at buttons and ties and hands tearing at fabric and silk until they rediscovered each other's skin. And then for a moment it was reverent, Matthew's gaze in awe of his wife's body as it lay uncovered beneath him, and her hands running over his chest and around to his shoulders, feeling the tensed muscles as he held himself up above her. She pulled, needing to feel him pressed against her again. Hot skin met hot skin and gooseflesh skimmed Mary's arms as she felt his lips against her throat, their touch light and feathery. His attention moved to her clavicle, to her freckle-dusted shoulder, and then to the smooth marble flesh of her breast, grinning against it as she arched into him.

Her legs untangled from his in frustration and he was dimly aware of settling between her thighs and of her whimper as they touched. Her nails pressed into his back as she pulled him closer, and she forced her eyes open to look up at him. Brown-black met clear blue and for a moment there was nothing else -just color.

"Oh, God, I love you," he said, bringing a hand up from her hip to cup her face, a thumb caressing the softness of her cheek before she nodded with a smile, her lips trembling with desire.

"I know."

And their lips met again, tongues dancing around each other, moans of pleasure swallowed up as they became one again, after being apart for so long.

Mary was soaring, and she sobbed in joy as she felt him, and then felt him everywhere as he moved slowly within her. She threw her head back and felt his fingers work into her hair, teasing it gently as he pepped her neck and shoulders and chest with searing kisses. How glorious this was! She gasped his name and was answered with her own, repeated over and over in a sweet chorus as the love and joy and pleasure built up within them both, growing with each passing second as he thrust against her like a sunrise. It warmed, the palest yellow and pink and orange steadily growing stronger as their lips found their partners again and rekindled their passionate dance. Matthew's hand moved between them as he felt his own release coming on rapidly, and he worked a magic on her that provoked a sharp cry of ecstasy from Mary. And then it was as if the sun broke, crested over dark mountains, bright and yellow and orange against a still-sleepy sky.

When two people who are passionately, even madly in love; when each wants most to receive what the other most wants to give; at the moment of their mutual climax it is impossible to say whether they sense themselves as two or as one. The moment is ecstatic because at that moment they stand outside themselves in the melded oneness of the infinite.

And so it was for Matthew and Mary. Their eyes flashed open in shock at the sensation as they rocked together, for it wasn't clear if they were one being or two. Mary cried out at the power of it, and felt Matthew's head crush into the hollow between her neck and her shoulder, kissing her fervently there as they rode it out.

Waves of that electric sensation called love broke over her repeatedly as it ended, her body calming but her soul flying. And she laughed again, shakily, her chest still rising and falling sharply and erratically as they broke apart and he fell beside her.

"What?" he said between exhausted gasps, pulling her to him lazily and kissing her hair, moving it off of her shoulders.

She laughed again, and turned her head to him mischievously, her eyes heavy with fatigue. "We're rather good at that, aren't we?"

He chuckled with her and nodded, his heart still calming. "I want you again," he whispered into her hair after a momenr, and his breath tickled her ear, causing her to shiver.

She looked at him with wide eyes, her hand resting on her chest and then moving to his, feeling the heartbeat whose pace she knew matched hers. "Again, darling?"

He laughed and brought her in for another kiss, his hand skimming her hip. "Again... and again and again and again."

Mary closed her eyes and pressed herself against him again, inhaling that scent that she couldn't ever place as anything but _Matthew _as she kissed his chest, rolling them so that she now covered him.

"Oh, God, why did we ever stop?!" she whispered, straddling him and leaning down to kiss him once more for good measure.

* * *

After Christmas Mary and Matthew behaved like two newlyweds. Delighted by their rediscovered intimacy, their behavior became almost dangerous. Twice Anna had interrupted them, her cheeks reddening as she fumbled over an apology and closed their bedroom door quickly, noticing the clock on her way back downstairs and realizing that at some point Lady Mary would _have_ to dress for dinner. The couple had fled the library one evening, schooling their surprised expressions so that they looked utterly convincing when Carson informed the family that a vase had broken in the library the night before and asking them if they had any idea who might be responsible.

Something had shifted, something the rest of the house couldn't quite place, except perhaps Anna, who now assumed the task of recovering her mistress' nightgown from all sorts of odd places in the room, and turned a blind eye at the rumpled bed clothes at three in the afternoon. Honestly, they couldn't help it. The knowledge that they could, that they weren't so afraid anymore, was exhilarating.

Mary continued to visit Luke, reading his new book to him and watching with pride as he became more and more independent, now walking with the use of a cane and even venturing outside when the weather permitted it. Despite Clarkson's belief that his blindness would be permanent, Matthew confessed to Mary that he would prefer a second opinion, and had contacted a doctor specializing in the field who practiced in London. They hadn't yet mentioned any of this to Luke, not wanting him to get too excited for nothing, although sometimes Mary felt that he was truly happy in his state. There was an easy-going gladness about the boy, as if absolutely nothing could make him sad, especially as the winter snows melted and the weather warmed.

The little kitten, whom Mary tended to refer to as "The Cat" or "The Kitten", often slept beside her as she read in the library, or curled into her lap as she took her tea. Violet always disapproved when she saw this, but her heart melted as the small creature yawned and stretched out, or batted at Mary's fingers as she tickled him. He was still too small to be left completely unattended in such a large house, especially in light of the fact that Isis ruled it, so Mary occupied herself with him, often carrying him from room to room with her, either in her arms, with his tiny paws resting on her shoulder, or in his little basket, so as to not lose sight of him. So it did not surprise Cora in the least when she came downstairs to take her tea in the drawing room and found Mary already there, newspaper in hand, the kitten chasing around a little jingling toy mouse by her feet.

Mary looked up and smiled at her mother, who sat down across from her, and Mary leaned forward to pour her cup of tea, adding two sugars as her mother liked and handing her the cup and saucer.

"Thank you, dear." Cora said, stirring the tea and taking a small sip before setting it down and looking down to Mary's little charge who was now sprawled on the floor, the toy finally captured underneath him.

"He's certainly a ball of energy!" Cora noted with an easy laugh.

Mary looked down and smiled, tapping her fingers on the cushions of the sofa she sat on and watching as the kitten's ears perked up and he glanced at her. "Only for a moment, before he wears himself out and sleeps for hours." Her fingernails scratched lightly at the surface and she clicked her tongue. "Come on, cat!"

The kitten jumped up to her, its baby paws tentatively testing the terrain of her legs as he climbed back into her lap and settled into her, calming as her palm ran across his little body and curling into a familiar ball as all the activity caught up with him. Mary smiled down at him indulgently, and her mother looked on fondly from where she sat across from them.

For two months now she had watched Mary, watched her emerge from a cold, hard shell into a world that welcomed her. She had seen her demeanor change around Luke, the coolness melting in favor of a sweet smile and a gentle voice. And it all came naturally -Cora wasn't sure Mary even knew of it herself, how easily the role came to her.

Cora remembered her pregnancy with Mary, and how much she had feared motherhood. She knew Mary had felt the same...before...but with the Mary she now saw, the concerned, unselfish, gentle Mary who spoke to children as equals and took such care with her little charge now situated in her lap, Cora knew that her first child was more prepared to mother than she had ever been.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks go (as always) to Cls2011 and everyone else who encouraged me to write this chapter. I don't know why I got writer's block with it, but there you go. If you have a minute, I'd love to hear what you thought!_


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Sorry for the wait, blah blah blah, etc. _

**Chapter XVI**

Matthew awoke pleasantly. Mary did not.

He opened his eyes sleepily. He was exhausted, yet oddly well-rested. Exhausted because of the significantly lowered hours of nightly sleep he had gotten over the past two months (not that he was complaining, far from it). And well rested because most mornings, when he awoke there was a warm and soft body nestled into his, an arm draped over his chest, and the comforting breaths of his sleeping wife tickling his chest. This morning, he didn't awaken to find Mary draped over him, but was instead awarded with a beautiful image of her: one arm carelessly thrown above her head on the pillow, the other resting on her stomach; lips slightly parted, ebony hair with a tint of red from the sun falling over one shoulder as she slept.

Matthew smiled happily and reached over, not able to resist, to tuck stray hair behind her ear and run his thumb over her cheekbone as he did so. To his surprise, however, her skin was hot, too hot, and coated with a fine layer of sweat. His brow furrowed in concern as she stirred, moaning slightly as her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

"Mary? Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at him wearily, grimacing as she placed a palm over her stomach. "I must have picked up something from the hospital..."

Matthew pressed the back of his fingers to her brow as his mother had done countless times during his childhood, feeling the fever radiating from it. Frowning slightly, he looked at her. "How do you feel?"

"Not very well, but not too poorly." Mary answered cryptically, moving her hand in soothing circles over her stomach.

He chuckled at her response. "How helpful, darling! Well, I'll stay with you today, in any case."

Mary shook her head, sitting up slightly and gathering her hair up off of her neck. "You will do no such thing. You have a train to catch at nine o'clock."

Her husband protested, taking her free clammy hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I don't want to be away if you're not well."

She smiled and squeezed his hand back. "That's wonderful of you, Matthew, but you've an appointment to keep. You made a promise to Luke."

Matthew bit his lip in conflict. "At least let me send for Clarkson."

"Only because I know it will comfort you. A day in bed is all I need, darling." she conceded, curling her knees into herself and turning on her side. Matthew's hand found her legs and ran over the shape of them through the sheets.

"It will comfort me." he said softly, standing and reaching for his robe.

* * *

A clear, bright morning rushed past as Matthew's gaze went out the windows of the train, which chugged steadily towards London. Fields of wet green and brown rushed past, grasses shining with morning dew, luscious in color from the fortifying winter snows. After a few telephone calls, Matthew had scheduled an appointment with one of the most respected ophthalmologists in London, a Dr. Edward Green who had sounded like a very spry and chipper old man when he had spoken with Dr. Clarkson over the telephone. Before they had secured the appointment, however, Matthew and Mary had spoken to Luke, asking him if he would _really_ like to see the specialist. He had readily given his consent, although Mary personally thought that the appointment itself was probably irrelevant to him; he was terribly excited to travel by train to a large city, having rarely left the perimeter of his farm and the surrounding land.

At the initial lurch of the train as it had pulled out of the station in Ripon, Luke had felt the same unease and nausea that he had felt in the car at Christmas, but Matthew soon distracted him with a new book, one that Luke was immediately delighted with. It told of the colorful and exciting life of the jungle, and all those who lived in it. He was enamored by the tale, and insisted that Matthew, like Mary, was to give a distinct voice to each character.

Matthew flipped to the next page in Kipling's novel and looked down at the ash-colored head leaning onto his arm. The boy was silent, and Matthew moved to see Luke's eyelids fluttering in sleep, his mouth slightly open, feet curled up on the cushion. And Matthew found that his heart swelled with affection at the weight of Luke's head against him.

He closed the book in his lap and set is beside him, careful to not disturb Luke's nap. The train was coming to a stop, and after a short pause, more travellers came aboard and bustled through busily. There was a knock at the door of the compartment and an older couple smiled in at them.

"I'm sorry, is this side taken?" the man asked quietly, gesturing to the free side of the compartment, his eyes crinkling with a friendly smile.

Matthew shook his head and held out a hand, motioning for them to sit. "No, please,"

They moved inside and sat down together, the woman pulling out her knitting and the man crossing his legs and unrolling a freshly-bought newspaper.

As the train lurched forward again Matthew steadied Luke's body against the motion, and before long the whistle blew and the train was chugging along smoothly once more. Matthew noticed the woman glance up at Luke periodically over her knitting, and watched her lips curve up in a smile. She must have realized Matthew's awareness of her stare because she smiled at him indulgently and said, "He looks like you."

"Oh, he's-" Matthew started to say, then thought about the complexities of their story and sighed tiredly. "Thank you."

The woman smiled again and busied herself with her task. Their journey continued on, with her husband occasionally commenting on something in the paper and Luke still sleeping peacefully.

Matthew briefly allowed his thoughts to wander. He had imagined moments like this, imagined raising his son; watching him take his first steps, teaching him how to ride a bicycle, taking him to London for the day...How many times had he thought of this? How often had he imagined watching his child grow, watch him become his own person? About being a father, about Mary becoming a mother?

Oh, God, Mary. He immediately felt guilty for indulging himself in those thoughts. It had really been poor Mary who had borne it all, more bravely than he would have done. He wondered if she had ever indulged in similar dreams after what had happened. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to be by her side as she was ill.

He remembered how much it had pained him when she had been sick on account of their child growing inside her, and how helpless he had felt as she wretched each morning over the wash-basin. Shock hit him hard as he realized she had been ill that very morning. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, suddenly feeling sick himself.

She was probably pregnant, he thought with a twist in his gut. It was entirely possible given their behavior in the past two months -inevitable, really. And the whole time he hadn't even thought of...oh, how clueless he had been! How foolish! Did she know already? Had she been keeping it from him?

"Sir? Sir!" the woman said with concern, drawing Matthew out of his troubled thoughts. "You're terribly pale, is everything alright?"

"What? Yes, of course." Matthew sputtered unconvincingly, and felt Luke wake next to him and the train slow again.

"Are we in London now?" Luke asked, stretching his arms and legs as he awoke.

"We are!" Matthew said more cheerfully, glad for once that the boy could not see his expression, which he was sure did not match the tone of his voice. And as they made their way onto the platform Matthew forced himself to inhale the cooler air, momentarily clearing his head, and turn his focus back to the little boy beside him who was clutching to his side, surprised and excited at all the new, bustling sounds around him.

They were able to find a cab relatively quickly, and Luke immediately started peppering Matthew with questions. What did it look like? Were there many cars? Many people? What were they doing? How high were the buildings? Were those church bells? Matthew patiently answered his queries, and before long the hospital loomed in front of them, and then they were outside in the city.

As Luke took his hand again and he led him inside, Matthew noticed that the boy had become much more serious in demeanor, and walked with him quietly, nervously. Matthew stopped, and Luke looked in his direction with confusion.

"Are we already there?"

Matthew shook his head. "No, not yet."

"Then why did we stop?" Luke asked, his hand turning uncomfortably in Matthew's.

"Because I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Luke looked down and shook his head. "I'm alright!" he insisted firmly.

Matthew put a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Are you perhaps a bit afraid?"

Luke hesitated, then nodded imperceptibly.

Matthew's suspicions were confirmed, and he then squeezed Luke's hand in reassurance. "I'm sure Dr. Green will be better at explaining things to you, but I am certain that everything will be alright."

"It won't hurt?"

"I don't know about that," Matthew admitted truthfully, "we'll have to ask the doctor, but I doubt it."

Luke straightened up and smiled after a moment of consideration, his trepidation momentarily placed aside. "I'm ready."

Matthew smiled, and Luke could hear it in his voice when he said, "That's the spirit!" and they headed towards the appropriate wing of the hospital.

* * *

Dr. Green was just as he had sounded over the telephone: he had a happy, light-hearted attitude about him, reminding Matthew of Luke in that respect, and upon meeting his patient immediately began asking him questions, just as Luke would have done to a new acquaintance. Matthew had anticipated questions of a medical nature, but Dr. Green, whose specialty did not even involve treating children (he had mentioned that he had, on the contrary, treated very few of them), wanted to know all about the little boy sitting with his legs dangling off the examination table. Luke proudly told him his favorite things to do, what stories he liked best, and any other anecdotes that Dr. Green would listen to.

When Dr. Green prompted that they should probably begin the examination, Luke grew quieter, a fact not unnoticed by the observant doctor. Matthew took a seat by the table and answered the occasional question or laughed at one of Dr. Green's analogies as he explained each instrument he would be using. Luke was excited, and followed the doctor's carefully explained directions until the exam was finished.

Going to the door and opening it again, Dr. Green stepped into the white and blue corridor until he caught sight of a nurse, beckoning her over with an arm and a smile. He was apparently a favorite, and the young nurse smiled happily when she reached him.

"Yes, Dr. Green?"

"Hello, Martha, I wondered if you might take Luke here to visit young James.. I'm sure they would enjoy each other's company immensely."

Martha nodded and came inside the room, introducing herself and offering to show Luke to another patient's room, a boy his own age named James, who was just down the corridor. Luke readily agreed and was shown out by the nurse, already speaking animatedly, and Matthew heard Martha's happy giggle as the two continued down the hall out of sight.

He stood when Dr. Green made his way back into the room and his hands found his pockets. He shifted his weight and looked into the doctor's grandfatherly eyes, waiting for the news.

"It is not what I expected!" Dr. Green exclaimed, his hands clasped together. "No, not at all!"

Matthew's brow wrinkled. "So, is it good news?"

Dr. Green nodded excitedly. "Much better than I had hoped when I spoke with your Dr. Clarkson. He made the whole thing seem rather hopeless, I'm afraid."

"Unfortunately, he does have that reputation." Matthew admitted with a hint of bitterness. No matter how much affection he had for the good-natured village doctor, the fact remained that he had made several crucial errors during the course of their acquaintance. "But does this mean that there is hope for Luke regaining his sight? Is that possible?"

Dr. Green frowned. "From what I can tell with such a short visit, it seems that the boy's pupils are still reacting to light, meaning he can vaguely tell the difference between night and day, light and dark..." he picked up his notepad on which he had jotted down several notes during the examination and pushed his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose in concentration.

"And will that change?"

"Hard to say. I'd like to see him again, if possible. I do have..." here Dr. Green smiled guiltily "a procedure that I've had varying success with. I've only treated seven cases so far, so it's relatively new."

"But would it work? Make him see again?" Matthew asked, trying to not sound too terribly hopeful, and immensely glad that Luke was not hearing their conversation.

"I can't promise anything. It's a difficult case. There's much damage to his eyes, I'm afraid. And this new procedure...I've only been able to restore _partial_ sight in four out of the seven cases."

Matthew nodded, his hopes slightly dampened.

"But there is always a chance!" Dr. Green comforted with a smile. Matthew wondered if he was always this optimistic with his patients. "Of course, I'll have to speak to Dr. Clarkson again to discuss the particulars, and I would recommend not mentioning this to the boy right away, not 'till we're sure."

Matthew nodded. "Naturally."

Dr. Green positively grinned as he showed Matthew out and led him to collect Luke from a neighboring room, telling the boy goodbye and laughing as Luke took hold of Matthew's hand and skipped around next to him, rattling off everything he had discussed with James, who, it turned out, was in the hospital resting on account of a badly broken left leg.

They spent the next two hours before their train in London, stopping for lunch in a restaurant much less casual than anywhere Matthew would have taken Mary. He enjoyed spending time with Luke. It reminded him of life before everything had changed, before Downton, when his life was much simpler and less complicated. And, to top it all off, Luke was an excellent companion, both in conversation and as an attentive listener. They even managed to pick up a new book from a small booksellers on the corner of a busy street before taking a cab back to the station and boarding their train.

Luke was much too excited after his day in London to consider resting on the train this time, and chattered all the way back to Downton village. He bid Matthew goodbye and thanked him for the "funnest" day he had "_ever_ had", making Matthew promise to look in on Mary when he returned. Matthew smiled, ruffled Luke's light hair, and promised, his thoughts and speculations from before immediately slamming into him as he made his way back up to the Abbey.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon, and as he came inside Matthew immediately asked after his wife, Carson informing him that she had stayed in her bed all day, as far as he knew. This fact surprised Matthew, for he had only known her to stay in bed if she was really truly ill. He climbed the staircase quickly and ran his hand along the guiding railing, noticing that it was clammy with sweat and nerves. The house was quiet, and he met no one on his way up, passing through corridors until he found their bedroom and knocked quietly at the door, hoping it didn't sound quite so urgent.

Mary turned over sleepily at the rap at her bedroom door and winced at its sharpness. Moaning softly and running a hand over her face she sat up slightly and called quietly for the visitor to come in. Matthew closed the door behind him and smiled sympathetically at his wife's sallow complexion before coming to her bed.

"Is it alright if I-"

"Of course." she said with a smile, sitting up further as the bed dipped slightly with his weight, although he put a hand on her leg and urged her to rest. Gratefully, she sunk back into the pillows, kicking the sheets off her feet, not being able to stand the heat any longer.

"How was London?" Mary asked, brushing hair off her neck. "What did Dr. Green have to say?"

"That can wait. How are you, darling?" Matthew asked, noticing how her other arm was draped over her abdomen and her slight grimace as she moved.

"Fine, I think. Better now that you're home."

He smiled at her for that. "And did Clarkson come to see you?"

Mary nodded, now pulling the blankets back over her feet, cold again.

Matthew's breath hitched in his throat. "And...what did he say?" he prodded gently.

"That I have a small fever, but that I'm perfectly well. And that if it's not gone in another day I'm to see him again." When his brow did not unfurrow, she took his hand and squeezed it in hers. "You see, darling? I was right. Nothing to worry about."

He nodded, was silent for a moment, then looked back at her earnestly. "You would tell me, Mary, if anything was...if you weren't alright, wouldn't you?"

Her eyebrows came together in a frown, and then relaxed in realization. "You mean if I were pregnant."

He looked at her, caught, and nodded resignedly. "Well, yes." he admitted. "That."

She looked at him then with such a loving expression, despite her illness, that he finally exhaled the breath he had been holding in for the entire day. Was it relief?

"Of course I would. You would be the first to know, darling."

"So, you're not-"

"No." she said, stroking his hand and sitting up with his help. She laughed slightly and ran a hand over his forehead, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly. "There's no need to worry, not yet."

His arm came around her tentatively, wary of her delicate stomach, and smoothed across her lower back in a gentle caress. "I missed you today."

She placed another kiss along his jaw. "I missed you, too."

He lay her back down with care and kept a hand on her knee as she kicked off the blankets again. She looked up at him tiredly but expectantly nonetheless.

"Now, tell me what the doctor said."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for being so patient in waiting for this chapter, and for all your wonderful reviews on the last one! You really don't know how much it means. Now, this chapter took me a long time to write, and I did it over the course of many days, so I hope it ended up being cohesive and working well. Thanks go as always to my awesome cheerleaders (Carissa, Léa, Sofia II, etc.) Let me know your thoughts if you have a moment! _


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Let's not talk about how long it took me to put this up..._

**Chapter XVII**

"Tell me what it looks like," Luke said quietly, reaching out for Mary's hand and finding it within his reach. There was a soft Spring breeze blowing gently across the estate lawn where they walked side by side, and it ruffled against Mary's grey skirt, making a flapping noise as it hit her legs.

Mary frowned and stopped, bringing one hand to shield her eyes from the bright midday sun. She had picked Luke up from the hospital on Isobel's recommendation that he spend more time outdoors, and taken him up to the Abbey to walk across its widespread lawn. Luke inhaled the air with delight, quite fed up with being inside during the past months.

"What it looks like?" Mary confirmed, glancing down at him.

"Yes, all of it," Luke commanded, shaking her hand up and down impatiently.

Mary smiled. "Very well."

She began to describe the sloping green of the grass, how they faded into lighter, taller grasses and blended into the larger countryside. She told him of the trees: the prickly pines and the softly swaying ones bursting into bloom. He asked her about the sky, and Mary told him it was made up of blues mixed together, clouds in the distance promising a late afternoon rain.

Luke listened, and smiled when Mary couldn't quite describe something. He imagined it all, imagined it so fiercely that he could almost taste the colors she painted for him, could almost see the pines swishing together ever-so-gently in the May breeze.

"Do you think Dr. Green will be able to fix my eyes?" he asked her suddenly, not able to take the tortuous sensation of merely imagining what his eyes could not see for an instant longer.

Mary faltered. The ophthalmologist had spoken with Clarkson, who had subsequently reexamined the boy and spoken to Matthew. He had confessed that the procedure was terribly new and experimental in nature, and cautioned against it, for Luke's sake.

Against their better judgement, Matthew and Mary had told Luke about the procedure, making sure to stress the risks and making sure the boy understood it as fully as he could before they gave him the option of having it. Saying that he'd think about it, Luke had spent four or five days since contemplating the possibility of regaining his sight. It was an impossible decision, especially for someone his age. The surgery was new, unpracticed, and the outcome not guaranteed to be a success. And so now, when he asked Mary so plainly, she was caught off her guard.

"I-I don't know," she finally managed, noticing how he tightened his hold on her hand as she said it.

"If you could get something back that you had lost, would you?" Luke asked innocently.

Mary pursed her lips and inhaled deeply. "I suppose I would. No, I know I would."

Luke looked up at her. She glanced down, but gasped when she saw that his eyes were opened up towards her, a murkiness covering them, yet underneath she could distinguish a light hazel brown. It was incredible how much a person's eyes told about them. She hadn't really realized it before, except with Matthew's clear azure ones. But as she stared down into his eyes which gazed so earnestly up into hers for the first time it humbled her, and she kneeled on the ground beside him, putting a hand on each of his hips and looking up into his unseeing eyes.

"If you want to try, you can, you know," she said gently.

Luke nodded, looking braver about the prospect than she felt. "I know. I want to!" he insisted.

Mary swallowed. "You're sure?"

Luke nodded again emphatically. "I'm sure! Stop worrying, Mary!"

She chuckled thickly at this and squeezed him slightly. He fell forward into her arms, provoking a small "Oh!" of surprise from her as he buried his little head in the crook of her neck. She ran a thin-fingered hand over his back and laughed a little.

"I'm allowed to worry just a little, you know," she reminded him gently.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and stood up straight again. "Alright!"

Mary watched, an arm slung across her middle when she stood up as he pranced in front of her after she told him there was nothing in his way. He laughed in front of her and she put the other gloved hand over her mouth, laughing behind it at his unperturbed joy. Never before had she met someone who so fully embraced and enjoyed life, even in the darkest of times, and she admired him for it.

With Luke's consent procured, Clarkson contacted Dr. Green and made an appointment for the next month, provided nothing drastic changed in Luke's condition before that date. The boy was overjoyed, and spoke frequently about the operation: how he would have to be asleep for it, how the doctor was really going to operate on his eyes, and how he might come out of it with part of his sight restored. Isobel chided him gently whenever these hopes got too high, reminding him that the reality of the situation was that they would know relatively nothing until his eyes had fully healed from the operation. Luke would sober, but not for long.

Much to all their delight, Luke had made friend his own age. Martin was a local boy, living on a farm just a small ways out of the village with his parents and older brother. He came to the hospital originally for a bad plant allergy, but returned after it had healed to talk and play with Luke. They made up games that didn't require sight and spoke animatedly together whenever Martin was able to visit.

Starved of a playmate his own age for months on end, Luke looked forward to Martin's visits as another child would anticipate Christmas. In between his new companion's visits, however, Luke contented himself with his usual visitors, although sometimes Mary brought the cat with her. Time moved by, and before long it was time to go back to London for Luke's appointment.

* * *

This time it was with a bit more apprehension and less happy anticipation that Luke boarded the train, although now accompanied by Isobel, Matthew, and Mary. He listened to Isobel or Matthew read aloud to him while Mary dozed off, her forehead resting against the cool glass of the window. The journey was comfortable enough, and they seemed to reach their destination far sooner than expected.

Isobel was braver than both her son and daughter-in-law, and so it was she who held Luke's hand as they walked into the hospital, and she who spoke with the doctor as a hospital nurse readied the boy. Mary took a seat on Luke's bed and held his hand, more for her own comfort than his, talking to him as a distraction from all the preparations going on around them. Matthew listened intently to Dr. Green when he finally arrived, and they were all put to ease by the elderly doctor's calm, joyful manner as he greeted Luke warmly on the bed and casually explained the procedure once more, as if it was a tiny thing that barely mattered.

But Dr. Green, for all his chipper humour, was highly tuned to the fact that every Crawley's heart was beating particularly fast, and that Luke's feet were tapping together nervously under the thin, white sheet.

And then, suddenly, they were being ushered outside to wait, assured by a nurse who couldn't possibly know anything of the outcome and was foolish to promise a good one that all would be well, and they sat in a cold, stark waiting room for the morning and afternoon. Isobel had brought letters to respond to, and knitting to busy her hands, and Matthew distractedly bought a paper, only to read it cover to cover within the first hour and then alternate between pacing and re-reading. Mary tried desperately to read her own novel, but soon gave up and took up Matthew's crumpled paper, scanning the headlines for something to interest her tightly wound mind.

* * *

"Mary, dear, wake up," Isobel's voice called. She placed a gentle hand on her daughter-in-law's shoulder and Mary's eyes opened, then she jolted awake.

"What is it? Is Luke alright?" she asked instantly, and Isobel gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

"He's just fine. Matthew's with him now."

Mary stood up, brushing her skirt back into place, furious with herself for falling asleep at such an important time. "Why did he not wake me?"

Isobel smiled in understanding. "You were sleeping so peacefully, none of us wanted to wake you," she led Mary through doors and down the hallway. "Luke's been asleep for the past hour, so there was no need."

They reached Luke's small room and Mary's breath caught in her throat as she saw him lying there, so small, with white gauze bandages across his eyes. This must have been what he looked like after the fire, Mary thought to herself, and took a deep breath before entering. Matthew looked up at her and gave an encouraging smile.

"He's been asking for you," he said as she sat on the edge of Luke's bed. Luke wiggled his fingers and Mary reacted knowingly, holding his hand in her own and stroking over the back of it with her thumb absentmindedly. He smiled tiredly and turned slightly in his bed.

"You see? It's over now. I'm alright."

The corners of Mary's mouth twitched upwards, aware that his words were delivered more for her own comfort than his, yet she squeezed his hand gently all the same. "I'm so glad," she said, her free hand running along his arm soothingly. She felt Matthew's own hand find her back as he came to stand beside her and was grateful for the security it provided. "How do you feel?"

Luke shifted under the blankets. "Tired."

Matthew chuckled. "I bet. Shall we let you get some rest?"

Mary looked up at him in surprise. "We can't leave!" she said quietly.

Luke nodded. "I think I'll just take a nap. You don't have to stay."

Mary leaned back over him. "Don't be silly, of course we'll stay."

* * *

They chose to stay in a hotel rather than with Mary's aunt while they were in London, and at the end of the week all three Crawleys were quite ready to return to their own homes. They were all exhausted from the endless hours spent at the hospital, although the fact that Luke had come back to his joyful self the day after his surgery cheered them up immensely. Matthew went to buy a new book when they finished the first one, and let Mary sleep for what, to her, felt like the first real rest in days as he read the new book to Luke.

When Dr. Green came each day he assured Luke that it would not be long before he could open his eyes and they would know if the surgery had been a success or not, and with each passing hour it seemed Luke became more excited about the prospect. Before, his blindness seemed to not have troubled him much. Or if it did, Luke didn't let it show. Now, however, it was clear that the possibility of regaining his lost sight was extremely exciting for the boy, and Mary worried that the telling moment when he opened his eyes would result in a large disappointment if the experimental procedure turned out not to have worked.

And so, when the moment finally came to fully take off his bandages and the lights were turned off, Mary stood by Matthew at the foot of Luke's bed, with Isobel nearby, and watched as Dr. Green carefully unwrapped the gauze from around Luke's head and sat the boy up with gentle hands.

"Whenever you're ready," Dr. Green said softly. Isobel looked to her son and Mary, smiling to herself as she saw Matthew's hand resting naturally on the small of his wife's back, the other one clasped tightly in hers. She watched as Mary bit the inside of her cheek, and as Luke smiled, nodded, and opened his eyes, Isobel's gaze fell not upon the little boy, but on her daughter-in-law and son. Mary's eyebrows came together in worry, and Matthew rubbed a soothing circle over her tensed shoulder blades.

Mary had never seen Luke cry. He had never shed a tear in her whole time of knowing him, so when he did now with a rising urgency, she let out a dry sob herself, putting a hand over her mouth, not knowing what to do. So she was glad when Luke held out his arms and Matthew pushed her gently forward, giving her a purpose. Her heart broke, and she held him delicately while Dr. Green and the young nurse backed away, hushing him and cupping his blonde head with her hand.

"It's alright," she whispered, "you'll be alright." Luke only cried harder, and Matthew moved forward to help his wife, who he could sense was struggling to remain composed just as much as he was. They had all set their hopes too high, and now must face the consequences. Yet a hand came on his arm, and he was stopped by his mother. He was confused, but stayed back as Mary held the weeping little boy.

"Perhaps we'll try again, one day," she said softly. He pulled away from her, reaching up with his shaking hands that knew her so well and touching her cheek, an index finger outlining an eyebrow, feeling the line of her nose, and he coughed slightly, tearfully.

"Mary?"

A sob was held back desperately in the back of her throat again as all of her hopes for his vision being restored were dashed. "Yes?" she said in a thick voice as one of his hands rested on her shoulder and the other one traced her ear.

"I can _see_ you."

* * *

_A/N: Thank you so much for reading, as always! What did you think? Reviews are the icing on the cake! _


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Did you think I forgot about this? There might be some truth to that..._

**Chapter XVIII**

The days passed, and Luke again began to adjust himself to the limitations of his newfound sight. His vision was not fully restored; some details were more discernible than others, but most things remained indistinct and blurred. Dr. Green had said this could potentially change with time given Luke's age, which encouraged the boy greatly. He learnt new faces, matched hands and voices with their owners at last. He played cards with his friend Martin, did exercises with Isobel or Dr. Clarkson each day to monitor his vision, and was payed the occasional visit from either Matthew or Mary.

One particular spring day, Mary came to the village hospital with the intention of seeing Luke but hesitated at the doorway that opened up to the patients' room. By Luke's bed she saw Martin chatting with Luke and smiled fondly at them, very pleased that Luke had acquired a playmate and friend after all the time he had spent alone in the little hospital with only herself and Matthew to pay him visits. Mary took a step forward but stopped herself, however, upon seeing the friendly, smiling man and woman Mary could only assume were Martin's parents as they stood by Luke's bed chatting with Isobel. Mary's soft smile faded, and her eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what the couple was saying to her mother-in-law.

"Lady Mary! Shall I tell Luke you've come?" the amiable, rosy-cheeked young nurse asked as she passed by, familiar with Mary's frequent visits.

Mary shook her head, smiling brightly. It was too bright a smile to be genuine. "No, no, there's no need," she said, as if nothing at all was the matter.

The nurse nodded her head in understanding and continued on with her duties, and Mary turned to leave, shaking herself slightly.

* * *

Isobel had seen Mary come and then go out of the corner of her eye and she knit her brow in concern before looking back to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she apologized with a smile.

Mr. Anderson put a hand on his wife's back. "We've seen how the two of them have taken up in the past couple of months," he explained, gesturing to the boys beside them who were chatting and playing cards. "And both Betty and I have decided that it would be no trouble at all to bring the boy home to live with us."

Isobel's mouth opened slightly before she smiled again, widely.

"If that would be alright, that is," Mrs. Anderson said quickly. The couple looked back at the two boys, not unalike in appearance, and such good friends already.

"I'll have to speak with Dr. Clarkson before anything's settled," Isobel said, not quite sure of the protocol in releasing an orphaned patient to a family willing to take him in. "But I think it's a splendid idea! What a wonderful thing for both of them!"

The couple smiled to each other happily, and Isobel kept hers up as long as she could, until they left. How was she ever going to break the news to her son and Mary?

* * *

The next time a visitor from the Abbey came to visit Luke, it was Matthew, and not Mary. Nevertheless, the young boy was thrilled to see Matthew, without whom there would have been very little effort made on behalf of restoring his sight through surgery, and was glad to be able to leave the confines of the hospital for an hour or two and walk around in the village. The early May air was delightfully fresh and cool, and as they walked Matthew marveled over the change that seemed to have taken over Luke since a month before. If they had thought Luke was a cheerful, funny, and compassionate child when they first knew him, Matthew was now able to meet the boy that must have been hiding under the confines of sightlessness. His happy disposition was contagious, and he told Matthew the jokes that his new friend had shared with him the day before, making Matthew laugh heartily at their childish but nevertheless entertaining nature.

As they meandered through the streets and spoke of whatever happened to cross their minds, Luke turned more thoughtful and at one point touched Matthew's arm for him to stop.

"What is it?" Matthew asked, looking down at Luke's soft, earnest eyes.

"Why hasn't Mary come?" Luke asked in a quiet voice. "She hasn't been to visit in a long time."

It had been two weeks, and it was true, Mary had not once ventured back to the hospital after seeing Luke so happy without her. In the time she had known him, she had always been the one able to cheer him up, to know what he wanted, and to know how to care for him. Seeing Martin and his family beside Luke's bed had sent a shot of coldness into her warming heart. It was a feeling of replacement, and she detested it. She hated that she had allowed herself to open her heart up so much, and now had to face the consequences that disappointment would bring to it.

Matthew coughed, not wanting to lie to Luke. "She's not been feeling well," he explained. It wasn't quite the truth. His wife _had_ complained of feeling ill recently, but always seemed to reiterate the fact as soon as Matthew mentioned going down to see Luke. The second the boy's name was mentioned, she made an excuse to stay home, encouraging Matthew to go in her stead and make apologies for her absence. He had done so faithfully before he suspected that she might not really be as ill as she made out to be. And now he felt he was lying to Luke on Mary's behalf. She hadn't said why she wouldn't go down, only that she wouldn't, and it puzzled Matthew greatly.

Luke nodded, then looked back up at Matthew. "Will you tell her I hope she feels better soon?" he asked, and Matthew promised.

Upon returning to the village hospital and watching Luke go with Dr. Clarkson to attempt to read charts of letters held up in front of him, Isobel pulled her son aside to speak with him. Her hands twisted nervously before she spoke, and when she did it was in a careful, composed tone.

"Matthew," she began, looking up at her son with soft, hazel eyes, wanting desperately for him to understand. "There's a little boy, a friend of Luke's-"

"Yes, Martin. I know, Mother," Matthew said with a shrug of his shoulders, finding it silly that his mother thought he was so oblivious.

"As you know, then, they've grown quite close in a short time and..." she paused before continuing. "You're the only one who can tell Mary. She can't hear it from anyone else."

"Mother, what is it?" Matthew asked, growing concerned.

Isobel took a deep breath. "Martin's family has a farm outside of the village. They're tenants on the estate. And...they've expressed an interest in becoming Luke's new family."

* * *

That night at dinner Matthew watched his wife closely. He wondered if she knew, somehow. Her face was pale, and she looked exhausted. As he spoke with Edith beside him, out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary engaging in conversation with her grandmother, although she initiated nothing, only speaking when she was spoken to. She moved food around on her plate and picked at her desert and, once they had all exited the dining room and were about to part, complained of a headache, telling everyone to go on without her as she felt she needed to retire early.

Matthew came up later, knowing that when Mary went up early she very nearly always did so to be alone for at least an hour or so, and entered their bedroom to find her curled up on one side already dressed for bed, the sheets pulled up by her shoulders. She had, by the looks of it, went without Anna's help that evening, so her hair was still wrapped in its elegant chignon from dinner. When she heard him open the door she looked up, turning slightly and running a hand over her forehead. He motioned for her to lie back down, knowing she was tired out from the day, but she ignored him and sat up, bringing her hands to her hair and taking pin after pin out. She placed them on her bedside table next to her and, as her hair fell out, she seemed to markably relax.

"Mary?" he asked tentatively.

"Mmh?" she hummed absentmindedly, setting the last pin beside her and bringing her hair over one shoulder where it hung in waves.

Instead of going over to his side and climbing into bed, Matthew came to her side, sitting in front of her with his feet over the side and his hands in his lap. He ached to touch her, knowing what he was about to relate to her would be painful to them both, but especially to her. She sat there, legs crossed under the sheets, eyes tired, looking at him wearily. "What is it?"

Matthew swallowed. "Mary, today Mother told me that..." Now he did reach out, not knowing how to tell her unless he was touching at least her hand. She looked at him in confusion as he took it, but he saw behind her eyes a flicker of knowing, as if part of her had anticipated this moment for longer than he had realized.

"Martin's family would like to bring Luke back to their home to live with them," he said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles before she snatched her hand back.

He had expected some sort of reaction apart from this, yet she was silent. Her eyes bore into the sheets in front of her and not at him, not looking anywhere else.

"Mary?" he prodded gently, reaching out to place a palm on her knee. She didn't flinch at his touch, for which he was grateful.

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes piercing through his and straight to his heart. There were no tears, yet Matthew saw an intense sadness and...fear? within their dark depths. "Are you alright? What do you think?"

Mary shook her head. "Of course I'm not alright."

He squeezed her knee in comfort and, after a careful moment, continued on. "You knew he could never be ours, Mary."

She scoffed but sniffed back tears. "I know! I know! But I wanted him to be ours, no matter what anyone said!" She shuffled her legs, uncrossing them and moving closer to her husband, who lovingly took her in his arms, letting her stifle the cries she wished so desperately to conceal into the comfort of his shoulder. He too had felt at Christmas how natural it had been to have the boy in their family for the holiday. And, for the past months he had watched, entranced, as his wife took to Luke and became one of the only constants in the orphan's life. After tragedy, the two had found each other and, to a degree, healed each other. They had all seen the transformation unfold before their very eyes.

"Things don't have to change, Mary," Matthew said, his hand stroking her hair softly as she pressed herself so closely to his side. "He won't be far, you can still see him."

Mary laughed bitterly and detached herself from Matthew's arms, pulling back and wiping her tears. "How can you say that, when _everything_ is changing?"

He looked at her with confusion and she laughed again, quite without humour, averting her eyes from him.

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked at her cryptic behaviour.

She flung up her hands and they fell back down, hitting the bed as she started to cry again. "I'm pregnant, Matthew!" she said through her tears, and as the words left her mouth she fell into a series of sobs so wretched and heartbreaking that if it had not been for the incredible shock of her message, Matthew would have embraced her without thought.

But he sat there, momentarily frozen as she told him, and she continued to cry, bringing her hands to her face to shield it from him, somehow.

"What?" he asked, incredulous.

She nodded, her sobs quieting as she fought against them. But as soon as she confirmed that what she had revealed to him was true she found herself suddenly in his arms once more. He was pulling her into his lap, and then she was crying again, because she had finally said the words out loud, and now it was real, and he was kissing her everywhere, and she was crying because she was scared, because she was happy, because she was heartbroken, and because she was going to be a mother.

* * *

_A/N: I have to give a big thank you to **MrsElizabethDarcy** who didn't let me forget about this story by continually reminding me that I had to put a new chapter up, so thanks for not giving up like I did for awhile! Also, thank you as usual to **Cls2011 **for always being there to encourage me, listen to my rants, dissect why this story gives me trouble sometimes, and read over several drafts until together we get it right! I'd love to know what you thought! _


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: This chapter goes to MrsElizabethDarcy without a doubt. She continually reminded me that this story existed and that I needed to update it. And I wanted to update this and then reward myself with writing an update for Yours Forever. My mind works in mysterious ways. And thank you to Cls2011 who let me whine about this chapter/story for days. Anyway, here you go! Sorry for the LONG wait!_

**Chapter XIX**

Matthew held her there, against him, her face buried into his shoulder as his heart calmed, until her sobs subsided. A gentle hand ran along her back, traveling over her spine and shoulder blades, and then he looked down at her. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Mary said, very quietly.

Matthew stroked her hair. "How long have you known?"

Mary shrugged and sat up slightly, brushing the hair off his forehead. "A month, maybe a bit longer." She laughed, her cheeks stained with tears. "I didn't mean to tell you like this."

He brushed a thumb over her jaw and cheek. "I'm glad you did." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes against Matthew's kiss and then nestled into his arms again.

"When will Luke leave?" she asked into the crook of his neck. Matthew exhaled, still overcome from the news she had just shared with him.

"Mother didn't say, but he can't remain there much longer. In fact, I think being outdoors with children his own age will do more good than being cooped up in that old hospital."

Mary smiled. "I like to think of him like that. Running around...laughing. Like a normal child."

She sat up again and crawled out of his lap, sitting cross legged beside him, tucking her feet under the coverlet. "I just want him to be happy."

Matthew looked at her and nodded. "I think he will be."

Mary noticed his distraction, how his mind was elsewhere, and she patted his hand. "Go, get ready for bed."

He looked back at her, coming out of his thoughts. "Why?" _Did she want him to leave?_

Mary smirked at his confusion. "Because."

In truth, Matthew was glad for the moment alone. Within the course of two hours Mary had been angry, cried, clung to him, and told him she was pregnant. It was almost too much. As he undressed he thought of how happy they had been before, what good news it had been. Finally they had gotten their wish. And then that night, that night that had very nearly broken them both. Matthew remembered with a hint of bitterness how overjoyed they had been, how unworried and unsuspecting, and then the worst had happened, and neither of them were prepared for it. He was happy, of course, with Mary's news, and his mind instantly jumped to the images he had often conjured in his mind a year ago -a baby in Mary's arms, a child that looked like them growing up, becoming a whole other person. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away. He knew better now.

It was dark when he returned to their room, and as he got into bed Matthew felt rather than saw his wife coming back into his embrace as he lay down. She was warm, and her hair was fragrant as it draped over her shoulders.

Mary could sense the tightness of his chest, the rigidness of his posture, and she reached a hand up to his face as her head rested on him, gently tracing his jaw.

"Are you pleased?" she asked, knowing the answer before it had left his lips. Matthew exhaled and kissed her hair.

"Of course, darling. I'm thrilled..." He drifted off and ran his fingers over her shoulder blades again. The gesture brought them both comfort. But he still wasn't relaxed, Mary could feel it.

"You're afraid," she said. He nodded.

"Aren't you?" he asked quietly. She nodded, propping herself up with her arms resting on his chest and fixed him with her serious, dark stare.

"Matthew," she began, playing with the buttons on his pajamas. "I don't want to...pretend as if nothing happened, but...I don't want to think about it all the time." She was grateful for the hand that found her elbow and arm. "I don't want to forget, you know. I just..." She couldn't say it, couldn't voice what she felt so acutely. She wanted to think of _this _baby, and not the one that she had lost, instead of fearing each day that the same fate would fall upon it. She wanted to live in the present. She wanted to _try_ and move on.

"I know," Matthew said. Unsaid words echoed in the space between them, and Mary breathed a sigh of relief, her head falling to its natural place on his chest. Matthew looked down, not able to help himself, feeling her pressed to him, her abdomen against his side, and thought of the new life they had created. A new life. A new beginning. He sighed, finally relaxing. She trailed her fingers over his chest.

"Matthew?"

He looked down at her, gently cradled by his right arm. "Mmh?"

"I'm not made of glass, you know." And he laughed, pulling her over him where she smiled, joy brightening her eyes even in the dark. Mary leaned down to kiss him, and they both smiled, breaking the kiss.

"Mary," Matthew whispered, putting a hand on her and pulling her even closer. She pulled a serious expression, her voice a mocking whisper.

"Matthew."

"We made a baby." Somehow, the word _baby _made it something much more concrete, even though Mary knew evidence of it would likely not show for a while yet. They both realized it at the same time, that the impossibly small beginning of their child rested between them. His hands traveled down her back to her waist, not daring to touch her abdomen until she gave him permission, and she wordlessly thanked him, draping an arm over him and smiling happily again.

"I know," she murmured, the words vibrating in her throat. She swallowed. "We made a baby."

Suddenly, a pitiful sound came from the other side of the bed, and Mary rolled off of Matthew and over to the bed.

"Oh, it's the cat!" she exclaimed in the small voice she used to address it.

"Mary, not in the-" Matthew began.

"Come on!" Mary entreated, picking up the mewing kitten in her hand and laying back down, letting him rest beside her. Turning to Matthew, Mary raised her eyebrows. "It was you who gave him to me, if you remember."

Matthew sighed and watched as the little grey kitten climbed onto Mary, its tiny paws kneading her stomach as she scratched behind its ears and ran her hand along his back. The kitten purred, continuing its game, and Matthew looked to Mary.

"Mary, the cat, it's-"

His wife laughed softly, gently lifting the kitten off her stomach and setting it down beside her. She put a hand on her now unoccupied abdomen, seeing the ridiculous worry in Matthew's eyes, but she did not tease him over it. The kitten resumed its purring and curled into its usual ball by Mary, who then pulled Matthew over so she could curl into him.

"Soon you'll have to decide which baby to spoil the most," Matthew said against her hair, his eyes closed.

* * *

Dr. Clarkson was thrilled when the Andersons spoke with him about bringing Luke to live with them and their children. The boy had stayed in the hospital for far too long as it was, and both he and Mrs. Crawley agreed that it was perfectly suitable for both Luke and the Anderson family. A farm would be the ideal place for him, having been raised in the country himself, and he wouldn't be too far from the village. Isobel knew it would be difficult on her son and daughter-in-law. Mary had been quiet when Isobel told them Luke was leaving, and Matthew had tried to make awkward conversation by asking questions about the new family, enquiring after the state of Luke's eyes, and verifying how far away Luke would be from them.

"Not far," Isobel said with a soft smile at the two when they came for tea. "A bit outside the village."

Matthew had turned to Mary. "There, not that far." And she had nodded with a small smile. It would be hard on them both.

"And when will he leave?" Mary had asked, raising her eyes from her teacup and maintaining what she hoped was a calm, collected expression. Isobel looked at her sympathetically.

"Within the week," she said. "You should come and say your goodbyes." Mary looked pained, Matthew seemed agitated and nervous. "For now," Isobel stressed. "Mrs. Anderson told me you both were welcome to visit them any time you wished."

Mary nodded. "That's kind."

Unable to sit through the uncomfortable, emotion-heavy silence that had settled in the parlor, Isobel rang for more tea.

* * *

The day came too soon for any of them, and so Mary and Matthew found themselves coming into the hospital that Thursday to say their goodbyes. Luke seemed nervous, distracted, and he looked up as the two people he now trusted and loved most in the world walked slowly towards him. He smiled up at them as they came and Matthew pulled a chair over to Luke's bed as Mary sat beside him. The boy's feet shifted restlessly in the silence. None of them knew what to say.

Finally, Matthew rose to the challenge and was the first to speak. "It'll be nice to play outdoors again, and have two new friends," he prompted. Luke nodded.

"Will you come?" Luke asked Matthew, trying to conceal his earnestness, but not succeeding. Both Mary and Matthew nodded, Mary placing a comforting hand on his back. "Of course we will, as often as you'd like."

Luke looked over and up at her. "Do you promise?"

"We promise," she said, running her hand over his shoulders.

"Thank you," Luke said softly. "For Christmas, and the books, and for-" but both Mary and Matthew cut him off with shhing noises.

"It's all right, you don't have to thank us," Matthew managed. "We did it because-" he stopped himself, but Mary turned Luke's face back to her and looked down at him, her eyes burning.

"Because we love you."

And it was too much. Luke didn't cry, instead he crashed into Mary's arms as he'd only done a few precious times before. She put a steadying hand on his head and stroked his hair, and gestured for Matthew to come sit on the other side of Luke. Together the three held each other, Mary looking up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath against tears that threatened to fall.

From the doorway Isobel watched them, her heart tight in her chest. She saw them break apart but remain on Luke's little bed.

"It will be all right," Mary said reassuringly. "You'll have a marvelous time."

Luke nodded, then looked at each of them in turn. "Will you miss me?" he asked playfully, and Matthew ruffled his hair.

"Will you miss us?"

Luke shook his head. "Not a bit!" For a moment, his tone hurt Mary and he laughed and threw his arms around her again, kissing her cheek. "I'm only joking," he said, every bit his old self.

"Do you have everything?" Matthew asked, glancing at Luke's new suitcase they had given him.

Luke nodded. "Are you ready?" Matthew asked again. Luke nodded and stood, picking up his case and walking towards the front hall of the hospital. Mary watched in tearful amusement at the way he awkwardly carried the heavy thing, having refused Matthew's help. He was quite proud of himself.

Elizabeth Anderson had been waiting by the door with her husband, speaking one last time with Dr. Clarkson, and Martin had waited with them, immediately lighting up as he saw Luke traipse in. Mrs. Anderson moved forward and smiled at the couple who had truly been Luke's parents for the past few months. She put a hand on Mary's arm.

"We'll take very good care of him," she promised, and Mary nodded with a careful smile. Matthew was walking the two excited boys outside to the waiting car, speaking to them as he loaded Luke's suitcase into it. The boy remained close to him even in his excitement.

"You've done so much for him, Lady Mary," Mrs. Anderson said as they walked out, her husband walking ahead. "He really thinks of you as his mother, you know."

Mary felt sick. She _was _sick, or had been that morning. She turned as they reached the car. "He likes reading. He has all his books, and I don't know if he'll be able to read them with his eyes, but he loves it. And he likes telling stories, he's quite good at it," the pace of her speech increased. "And he's terribly clever, he'll do so well in school."

Mrs. Anderson put a hand on her arm again. "You can visit any time you wish, really. Every day, if you'd like."

Mary laughed through the beginning of tears. "Thank you."

After one last hug and a gentle tease from Luke for Mary to not cry he climbed into the car with his new family. He waved from the back of it at the two of them, standing there so lovingly, seeing Matthew's arm slip around Mary's waist as the two of them waved back at him. And then the road curved, and they were out of sight. Luke swallowed thickly, turning back to the front, and listened to Martin babble on about his new home.

* * *

Matthew's hand tightened around his wife's waist as the car turned and disappeared. She tensed, then exhaled a slow breath, wilting slightly as Matthew pulled her into him. The June breeze rippled through, shifting her skirts slightly, and Mary looked up slightly, braving a smile. Matthew kissed her forehead.

"Well, that's that," he said softly.

She nodded. "It's such a good family. They're wonderful."

Matthew smiled back at her and patted her back. "I know," he said as they turned and began to walk back to their own car (Matthew had refused to let her walk). "How are you?" he asked with concern.

Mary let her head lean slightly against his shoulder. "How are _you_?"

They both smiled slightly. It was painful and beautiful at the same time, an end and a new beginning.

* * *

_A/N: I'd love to know what you thought! _


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